And When We're Gone
by Jordan Trevor
Summary: Jean-Luc Picard finds himself caught between two worlds. Which one is real? And more importantly, which one is home? This story follows the episode "The Inner Light."
1. Chapter 1

**And When We're Gone**

**Author's Note:** This story was first published in 1992 in the fanzine _Eridani 18._

**Disclaimer: **The crew of the Starship Enterprise doesn't belong to me.

The words and the music drifted through his mind, surrounded him and kept him safe somehow, wrapped up warm and secure in the memories they evoked. He'd sung to the children at bedtime, as he'd rocked them to sleep, Batai's head resting tired and heavy on his shoulder, Meribor's small body folded into the crook of his arm, her lisping voice singing in unison with his.

It was an old song. One he had learned as a boy, sung on many a camping trip while seated beside a blazing fire, with the sky black above him, and the stars aloft in their firmament. They had been the wonder then, the mystery in his young life, his desire to be among them the most important thing imaginable. And now, here they were, on the other side of the viewport, bright, shining pinpoints of light in the darkness of a lonely space. No longer did they fill the hollows in his soul, and he took the flute from his lips and realized how limited his imagination had been.

Carefully, he laid the instrument in the box, closed the lid, fastened it securely. He carried it into the next room and placed it on the bedside table, knowing that he would always want it nearby. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he allowed his fingertips to linger on the smooth, wooden surface of the box. It, in itself, was painfully familiar. Young Batai had made it the summer he'd turned twelve; the summer he was convinced that growing up to be a carpenter was all he wanted to do and be. He'd painted it the same blue-green of the cabinet in the dining room, only now the color was faded and worn from the years of handling. But had it really been years? Had it really been at all?

Sighing deeply, Picard drew his hand away, his tear-filled eyes slowly surveying the blurred outlines of his bedroom. The memory of this morning was coming back to him, not his memory of wrestling with Kamie on the living room floor, nor the sweetness of the child's high-pitched laughter, but of waking to the sound of his chronometer ringing insistently. His grey pajamas still lay at the foot of his bed, his dressing gown thrown carelessly over the arm of the chair, both exactly where he'd left them. He'd been in a hurry to reach the bridge, eager to complete the magnetic wave survey of the Parvenium system. Little did he know then, that he was on the edge of having all the time in the universe.

The enormity of his experience had not fully registered, he knew that. He still felt as if he were dreaming, still believed that if he closed his eyes and opened them again, he would be home, sitting in the white heat of the courtyard with Meribor beside him.

"This is home." He said the words out loud, the solid sound of them in the darkened room adding only slightly to their credibility. And he rubbed his hands against his knees and bedspread, as if to reassure himself that he, and the furniture, were actually real.

Yet, Eline had felt real, and Meribor, and Batai, and the wriggling bundle of energy that had been his grandson. Had they lived on that other world in another time, or had they merely existed in his mind?

The endless flood of questions and doubts were building into a headache, and Picard looked down at his pillow and longed to be able to sleep. Perhaps, he thought, glancing at his pajamas, if I put these on, I can rest. He pulled off his boots, dropped them on the floor, but as he began to remove his uniform, another memory came to him.

_Despite her gentle smile, her concern was evident in her eyes and the crease of her forehead. She took his hand in both of hers, tugged at it gently. "Now, will you come to bed." There was a slight hint of exasperation in her tone._

_Her words frightened him, and he stared at her, resisted. "Oh, I'll sleep here," he said nervously, trying to draw his hand from her grasp, while at the same time his other hand patted the chair possessively._

_"Kamin, please, come with me."_

_"I've been sick," he protested, and this time he managed to pull his hand away. "I'll be tossing and turning. It wouldn't be fair to you." He gripped the arms of the chair, desperately needing something to hold onto at that moment. His mouth hardened into a thin line._

_The woman leaned over, placed the palms of her hands against his chest. "Let me be the judge of that." One hand moved up to his shoulder, while the other stroked gently along the neckline of his shirt, her fingers soft and warm._

_He tensed slightly at her touch. Then he saw the pendant on her necklace. "Where did you get this?" he murmured, taking hold of it, his eyes fastened to the small shape._

_She knelt, steadied his hand in hers, stared at him disbelievingly. "Kamin, this is the first gift you ever gave me." The significance of it was evident in her voice._

_He continued to gaze at it, almost trance-like, as if it held the key, the reason as to why he was here._

_After several long moments, Eline took the pendant away, and closed her hand firmly around his. She stood up. "It's time to go to bed, dear." Her words were as firm as her grasp, and he looked up at her, suddenly too tired to argue any longer._

_He nodded resignedly, rose from the chair and allowed her to lead him down a hall to what, apparently, was their bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was a simple room: a bed with a table and chair next to it, a chest of drawers, a set of cabinets. He hesitated in the doorway, as if the act of entering this room would draw him irretrievably further into this unknown world._

_"It's all right," Eline assured, rubbing her hand over his back. She walked him to the bed, eased him on to it._

_He leaned against the pillows that were propped against the headboard, and he watched her as she went to the chest and took out a pair of pajamas. She moved as if she were a part of a dream, silent, graceful, at ease in these surroundings, at home here, accustomed to taking care of him. _

_She came back to the bed, and he reached out for the clothing she held._

_"I can manage," he whispered._

_She laughed softly. "You can barely hold your head up and keep your eyes open at the same time." And despite his weak resistance and obvious embarrassment, the woman removed his clothes and replaced them with the pajamas. She frowned at the look of irritation on his face. "And just who do you think has been dressing you for the past week?" she scolded gently, as she finished buttoning his shirt._

_"You?" he queried uneasily, looking up at her with tired, hooded eyes._

_She smiled, reached out and touched the back of his neck, her fingers massaging the taut muscles. "Dressing you, feeding you, bathing you. I've taken very good care of you, my darling, if I say so myself. Now, into bed."_

_She helped him settle in and pulled the covers up around his shoulders. Sitting beside him, she ran her hand lovingly over his cheeks and forehead. "Your fever's back," she sighed. "I'll get a damp cloth. It'll make you feel better."_

_She left him, and he tried to stay awake until she returned, afraid to close his eyes, not knowing where he'd be the next time he opened them. But he was exhausted, and sleep came instantly._

~vVv~

_He woke, in the middle of the darkness, sure that it had all been a dream, only to find the coolness of Eline's body curled around the fevered heat of his back, her arm draped over his shoulder, the fingers of one hand touching the skin above his heart. _

_He shifted away from her, uncomfortable and embarrassed by the physical closeness._

_"Kamin?" she murmured softly, opening her eyes, looking over at him in the dim shadow of the room. Reaching out, she rested her hand on his chest._

_He swallowed, felt tears sting his eyes. "I'm still here," he said, his voice dull._

_She smiled. "Of course, you're still here. This is your home."_

_He stared at the ceiling, began to tremble with the realization and fear that this was indeed his home, a home he could not leave._

_"Are you cold?" Eline whispered as she snuggled closer._

_The feel of her next to him reinforced the fact that this was not a dream; he stiffened, and gasped for breath, fighting the sobs that threatened to overwhelm him._

_She wrapped her arms around his body, held him tenderly. "Shh, Kamin," she soothed, "everything's all right."_

_But it wasn't._

~vVv~

"Jean-Luc?" Someone was calling, bringing him back, crossing over from one place to the other, a soft voice taking hold of him and carrying him home.

He groaned, and his eyes fluttered open. "Eline?"

"No," the voice answered, "it's Beverly." A woman leaned over him.

He blinked several times, adjusted his eyes to the light of the room, then focused on her. "Beverly?"

She was sitting beside him, red hair framing her face, the blue of her eyes and uniform so very familiar. "It's me. I came by to check on you."

He pushed himself up in the bed, his breath coming in startled gasps. Quickly, he glanced around. It was his cabin on board the _Enterprise_, the muted grey walls and carpeted deck, a shelf with his books lined upon it, the entrance to the bathroom, silver light and shadow reflecting off the mirror above the vanity. He reached out and grabbed her arm, tightened his fingers around it.

Flesh and bone, real.

Crusher winced slightly, surprised at his reaction. But she placed her hand protectively over his. "I'm here, Jean-Luc," she smiled faintly, tenderly rubbing her thumb across his fingers.

He exhaled a sigh of relief, loosened his grip, stared at her self-consciously.

"I'm here, too," he whispered breathlessly.

"Yes, you are." Each word was a solid affirmation.

He nodded, looked down and saw that he was half undressed, realized that he must have fallen asleep in the process of taking off his uniform.

Crusher tugged at his sleeve. "Could you use some help?"

"Uh, no, I'm fine," he replied, suddenly embarrassed by the situation. He let go of her arm, swung his legs over the other side of the bed and got up. He stood there uncomfortably, pulling nervously at the shoulder of his uniform, not sure what to do next.

Crusher couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him quite so indecisive.

"Here." She took his pajamas, handed them to him. "Why don't you finish putting these on?"

He took them, blushed slightly.

She turned her back to him, and grinned. "I won't look, Jean-Luc. Scout's honor." She got up, took a few steps away from the bed. "I'll even keep my distance."

"Very funny, Beverly," he scowled, then quickly changed into the silk pajamas and slid under the blankets.

She looked over her shoulder. "All tucked in?"

"Yes, Doctor," he mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

She glanced at the floor where his uniform lay in a heap, then at his boots, kicked into the center of the room. She went and picked them up. "Really, Captain, I thought you were neater than this."

_She turned around, and it was Eline, walking across the front patio._

_"Don't forget these," she reminded him, as she picked up his shoes. "I won't put them away for you again." She clapped the soles of them together, a sharp noise in the peaceful night, then turned back toward the front door._

_He looked away from his flute, just long enough to deliver an obedient "Yes, ma'am." He'd learned years ago who the true head of their household was._

_Eline stopped, and smiled over at him, the love she felt shining plainly in her eyes._

"Jean-Luc?"

He blinked.

Crusher was standing next to his bed; she placed a hand against his cheek. "Are you all right?" Her words, her expression on her face, reminded him of Eline: always concerned, caring, worried about him, there after every dream and nightmare.

He pushed the memory away and nodded. "I'm just tired."

Her fingers rubbed along the line of his jaw, then over his ear, stroked the short, silvered hair at the back of his neck. "I'm not surprised." She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "You get some sleep," she instructed, then started towards the door.

"Beverly?" His voice was low, hoarse, barely audible.

Yet she heard him, and she stopped, looked back. "Yes, Jean-Luc?"

He frowned, displeased with himself for what he was about to ask, but he asked it anyway. He had to. "Would... would you stay with me?" He shook his head, inhaled a deep breath. "I... I don't want to be alone."

Crusher smiled gently, knowing how difficult it was for him to allude to even the slightest fear. She came back to the bed, sat down beside him, took his hand in hers.

"Of course, I'll stay."

~vVv~

_"He was exhausted. Fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He didn't tell me exactly where he'd been. Just out there... somewhere."_

_"We searched all over for him. I'm glad he was able to find his own way home."_

_"So am I. He's so confused, and frightened."_

_"I know."_

_"He doesn't make any sense. He keeps telling me that he doesn't belong here, that he's from somewhere else."_

_"Perhaps it's just the fever. When he gets better-"_

_"If he gets better."_

_The voices seemed to come from far away, drifting to him as if in a dream. Some words he heard and understood, and then others were faded, indistinct._ But the tones were discernible, one high, one low, both gentle and concerned.

"He's been through a lot."

"More than we may ever know."

"It still doesn't make much sense."

"Doesn't it? They wanted to be remembered, as they were. Real, everyday people. People who laughed, and cried. They wanted someone to know who they'd been."

"I guess when you put it that way..."

He pulled the covers tighter around his shoulders, the soft velvet texture of the blanket brushing against his cheek. _He rolled over, and gathered the hand sewn quilt closer to his chest._

_"What if he stays this way, Batai?" The woman's voice was fervent._

_"He won't."_

_"But you don't know that."_

_"Eline," the man said her name calmly, "Kamin will be fine. You'll see. But I can still go and get the doctor if you want."_

_"No, it'll only frighten him, and then he'll probably get upset with me afterwards."_

_"Don't you let him. Just remind him who the boss is around here." There was a moment's hesitation. "I'll be going now, but I'll come by tomorrow."_

_"Thank you, Batai. You're a good friend."_

_The voices ceased, and he groaned, ran his hand over his forehead, felt hot and cold at the same time. He kicked the quilt off the bed_, but the softness of the blanket still covered him.

"He didn't want to be alone," the woman explained, her voice barely a whisper.

"That's understandable. I just stopped by to see how he was feeling."

"I think he's still very confused and frightened. But physically he's fine."

"You're taking good care of him, Beverly."

"Thanks, Will."

There was silence, and he shivered. _Warm hands touched his shoulders, a cool cloth bathed his face, and the voice at his ear was soft, soothing. "Shh, just sleep."_

~vVv~


	2. Chapter 2

_He opened his eyes. The room was bright around him, light from the window behind the bed reflected off the white walls and ceiling. He lay perfectly still for several minutes, thinking that if he waited long enough it would all disappear, and he would be back aboard the Enterprise. But the room remained the same._

_She wasn't beside him. He knew this without even having to look at the other side of the bed. Already he could sense her warmth, and the absence of it. And he was alone now; the only sounds present were those of his breathing and steady heartbeat, comforting in their familiar rhythm._

_Slowly, he sat up, studied the room in the light of morning. His first assessment the night before had been correct. It was a simple room, comfortable, lived in, its faded blues and greens and russets so very different from his quarters aboard the ship. On one wall hung a tapestry, rich in color and texture. And there was a mirror, and a framed painting of the mountains._

_"So, you're awake."_

_He jumped, startled, swung his head toward the door. Eline was there, smiling broadly at him._

_"Yes. I... I suppose I am," he stammered._

_She crossed over and sat down on the bed beside him, one hand resting warm on his knee, the other caressing his cheek and forehead, checking for fever._

_"How do I feel?" he asked, a slight smile forming at the corners of his lips. _

_Despite his apprehension, her thoughtful concern was endearing._

_"You feel just perfect," she replied, brushing her fingers against his neck, then drawing her hand away. "No fever at all."_

_He nodded. "That's good."_

_"No. That's wonderful," she corrected. And before he realized what she was doing, she leaned over and kissed him, her lips soft on his._

_Surprised and confused, he abruptly turned his head away, broke the kiss. "What... what time is it?" he faltered._

_Eline sighed, and drew back. "It's a little after eight."_

_The look in her eyes told him that his reaction had hurt her, but he didn't know what to say to remedy the situation, and he silently vowed to be more careful. For although he did not know this woman, she knew and loved him._

_"Why don't you take a bath before breakfast," she suggested evenly. "I'll go draw you one." She got up and went through the door on the opposite side of the room._

_A moment later, he heard the sound of water running. Throwing back the quilt that covered him, he got out of bed, and walked hesitantly over to the bathroom door. He looked inside. Eline knelt beside the tub, testing the temperature of the water with one hand, regulating the flow with the other._

_She glanced up at him. "Think you can manage a bath on your own?"_

_"Oh, yes, I'm sure I can," he replied instantly, his hand gripping the door frame._

_She nodded. "I thought so."_

_When the tub was half full, she turned off the water and stood up, pushed at her hair with the back of her hand. "There, I think that's warm enough. I'll lay some clothes out for you." She brushed past him, and he reached out and touched her shoulder. She looked at him, surprised at the contact._

_"Thank you," he said softly._

_She smiled. "You're welcome. Call if you need anything."_

_Once she was gone, he shed his pajamas and slid into the tub, submerged himself in the warm water. It felt good on his sore muscles, eased the stress that had knotted his neck and shoulders. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He was still tired, had indeed tossed and turned most of the night, waking from restless sleep to find Eline hovering over him, whispering soothing words._

_"I'm here, darling." Her touch was gentle as she ran a dampened cloth over his fevered body._

_He hadn't the strength to talk, the events of the day had been too much, and he'd felt a part of him accept, almost willingly, the care and attention the woman gave so freely. _

_He'd drifted in the warmth._

_"Don't fall asleep."_

_The voice startled him, and his muscles tensed, causing him to slide lower in the tub. His eyes snapped open, and he gasped, choked on the water he swallowed._

_"Kamin!"_

_He started to cough._

_Eline hurried over and knelt beside him. She grabbed his shoulders, helped him sit up; her hand patted his back. "Easy there."_

_He took several deep breaths, then looked over at her. She was trying not to laugh. _

_Suddenly, remembering where he was, he leaned forward, drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them. He felt his face grow hot._

_"Are you all right?" Her hand lingered on his back, rubbing gently._

_"Yes, I'm fine," he said quickly._

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Yes. Yes, I... I... I'm sure. I'm just fine. Just... just taking a bath. Just fine here." He lowered his eyes._

_"Kamin?" Eline touched a finger to his chin. "You're embarrassed." The humor was gone from her voice._

_He turned his face from her, and she drew her hand away._

_"You've never been modest before." She spoke as though she no longer knew him, as if for the first time she truly believed that the man sitting before her was not her husband._

_He swallowed. "I haven't?"_

_"No. Never."_

_He looked back at her, saw that her eyes were filled with worry, concern. Even fear._

_"I'm... I'm just not myself yet," he whispered._

_Long moments passed, then Eline smiled. "That's all right. You will be soon." She stood up. "I brought some fresh towels. There on the linen shelf." She stepped toward the door. "I'll just go finish breakfast now."_

~vVv~

"Are you hungry?"

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "What?" "You kept mumbling something about breakfast." Beverly Crusher stared at him from the chair beside his bed.

He pushed himself up on his elbows. "I was?"

The doctor nodded. Her lab jacket was wrinkled, and her face was lined with sleep. Stray wisps of hair fell across her forehead, into her eyes, and she pushed them back behind her ears. She looked as if she'd spent the night in the chair; knowing Beverly, she probably had.

Picard smiled at her, grateful for her friendship and concern. He shrugged. "I am a bit hungry." He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, not in Ressick, nor here on the _Enterprise_.

Crusher stood up. "What would you like?"

He thought for a moment. "I suppose it is time for breakfast?"

"More or less."

He frowned at her. "More or less? What time is it?"

"A little after 0300."

He let his head fall back on the pillow, and groaned. "I'm sorry, Beverly."

"You have no reason to be." She reached down and pulled on his arm.

He propped himself back up. "But you haven't had a proper night's rest at all."

"I'm fine, Jean-Luc. Now, what can I get you to eat?"

"Some porridge, I guess," he answered absently.

Her eyes widened. "Porridge?"

"With just a little bit of cinnamon on it."

She nodded, hearing his words, but not quite believing them. "Porridge and cinnamon?"

"Yes. If you don't mind." His smile returned as he sat up, adjusted his pillow behind his back.

"No. No, it's just that..." Crusher eyed him suspiciously. "Jean-Luc, I've never seen you eat porridge."

The smile broadened. "You haven't?" Then his face suddenly went slack. "No, of course, you haven't." His voice was dull. "My wi..." He sighed heavily, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "My wife made porridge for me every morning," he explained. "It was one of my favorites. It's, ah... really quite good with the cinnamon."

"I'm sure it is."

He ran his hands over his face. "Oh, Beverly, this is going to take some getting used to." He shook his head. "The memories seem so real."

She stepped back to his bed and sat down next to him. "They are real. For you." She rubbed her hand along his arm. "And I want to hear all about that other life."

He grinned slightly. "Have you got a spare thirty years to listen?"

She laughed. "Perhaps you can just tell me the highlights."

He nodded, staring across the room at memories only he could see. "There were many."

"I'm glad."

~vVv~

The porridge wasn't as good as Eline's. He had a strong suspicion that nothing the food dispenser issued ever would be. From that first bowl of soup, he'd loved every dish Eline had served. She'd even taught him how to cook, although his culinary talent never improved as his flute playing had. Still, those evening meals they'd prepared together, laughing and talking with the children underfoot, had been good times. And Picard had come to understand his brother's disdain for modern conveniences. Perhaps Robert had always known the secret that had taken his younger brother a lifetime and another world to discover.

In Ressick, he'd found that he appreciated things more: a fire built in the hearth, their small garden scratched into the dying soil, the iron he'd learned to weave by hand, a simple dinner of vegetable stew. He stared at the half empty bowl on the table before him and realized how much he would miss those things.

"It's not as good, is it?"

He glanced over at the doctor, found her staring at the bowl as well. "Oh, it's fine. It's just..."

"Not as good," she finished with a shake of her head.

"No," he admitted, "I'm afraid it's not the same."

Crusher leaned forward, propped her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands. "She was a good cook, wasn't she?"

"Who?"

"Your wife. What was her name?"

Picard averted his eyes, stared down at the table. "Eline," he answered tersely.

"Tell me about her." Crusher's tone was soft, concerned, genuinely interested.

But Picard evaded the topic. "There's not much to tell. After all... she wasn't actually real."

"She was to you. Very real." She touched her hand to his arm. "You can't deny those memories, Jean-Luc."

He gave a short laugh, reached up and rubbed his eyes, massaged his temples. "No, you're right. I'm finding that I can't deny those memories." He looked back at her. "They're very strong, Beverly. I close my eyes, and they're there immediately. Almost like they're waiting for me to come and visit. You know, like a good dream, and when you wake in the middle of it, you want to go back to sleep so you can finish it."

She nodded, smiled reassuringly at him. "I know. You need to talk about them. That's why I've scheduled you an appointment with Deanna this afternoon."

He started to protest, but changed his mind, found that a part of him wanted to talk to his ship's counselor. There were too many lingering emotions for him to assimilate on his own. He took another bite of porridge, forced himself to swallow, although it tasted much worse now that it had grown cold.

"Here." Crusher set a cup in front of him. He hadn't even been aware that she'd gotten up from the table.

"What is it?"

She laughed. "It's tea, Jean-Luc. Remember? Earl Grey, hot."

He smiled and reached out for the cup. "I remember." And he remembered how much he'd missed it.

_"You call this tea?" he sputtered, taking a sip of the overly sweet liquid._

_"Of course, it's tea," Eline replied exhaustively. He'd questioned her about every aspect of their morning meal. "The brown, hot stuff is tea. The grey, mushy stuff is porridge. The reddish sprinkles are cinnamon. And since you happened to have forgotten, they're all your favorites."_

_He frowned. "They are?"_

_"Yes." She sat down across from him at the dining table. "Please eat, darling. You need to build up your strength."_

_He nodded and picked up his spoon, took a bite of the porridge. It wasn't bad. After the second bite, he decided that it was actually very good, despite its unappetizing appearance. But the tea was an entirely different matter._

_"This is the only kind of tea you have?" he asked, staring hopefully at her._

_The already puzzled expression on her face deepened. "There's only one kind of tea, Kamin. And that's it."_

_"I don't suppose you've heard of Earl Grey?"_

_Eline shook her head. "No. Who is he?"_

_He sighed, discouraged. It was one thing to be stranded on a world he'd never heard of, but to be denied a good, hot cup of Earl Grey in the morning..." It's, uh... it's no one. At least not anyone you know."_

_She took a sip of her own tea, then set the cup firmly on the table, wrapped both her hands around it. "Speaking of knowing people, Kamin," she hesitated, licked her lips, "who is Beverly?"_

_"Beverly," he repeated the name, the sound of it so very familiar to his ears._

_Eline nervously ran her fingers along the rim of the cup. "You kept calling for her last night."_

_He swallowed. For just a moment, he felt guilty for some reason, as if by calling out Crusher's name he'd somehow been unfaithful. "She's... an old friend," he whispered._

_"I see." But the look she gave him let him know that she didn't really see at all._

_Perhaps there would be a time to further explain to this woman who Beverly Crusher was, but not now, not yet. He reached over and touched her hand. "A very old friend, Eline. Someone I knew long before I ever met you."_

"She wants to meet with you at 1400 hours."

"Who does?" he asked, looking up from the bottom of his tea cup.

Crusher's face fell. "You haven't been listening to a word I've been saying."

"Beverly, I-"

She shook her head with the sudden realization. "You haven't heard what I've been saying."

Picard looked away, ashamed of his inability to control the powerful flow of memories.

"It's all right, Jean-Luc," she assured him. "Deanna can help."

~vVv~

_"I don't need any help," he snapped when she reached out to unbutton his shirt._

_Stung by his sudden outburst, Eline drew her hands away, her eyes hardening into steal. "Of course, you don't. How silly of me to forget." She turned her back to him, began to change into her nightgown._

_He sank onto the bed, sighing deeply. "I'm sorry. I'm... I'm just tired."_

_She was silent, and he looked away while she prepared for bed, still uncomfortable with the idea of being married and sharing his life with someone._

_It had been a long day. Even after six weeks, his profession wasn't coming easily to him. Eline could no longer say that he was the best iron weaver in Ressick, although she assured him that he would improve. She cared for him, but he was beginning to wish that she didn't care quite so much. She still treated him as if her were ill, as if her were something fragile that had to be handled carefully. If he went for a walk in the hills, she would go with him. If he sat on the patio after sunset, she would bring him his dressing gown and wrap it around his shoulders. If he complained of being hot or cold, she would immediately touch her hand to his forehead, checking for fever. He felt like an invalid. But it was more than that. She wanted to know him, be a part of his life, have him share his thoughts with her. And that was difficult. He'd always been a very private man, singular, solitary. And now... _

_He sighed again, changed into his pajamas and slid into bed. Eline stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair, and he watched her. She was an attractive woman, kind, gentle, and he couldn't deny that he had feelings for her, but he was still too unsure of this life to let her into his._

_"I am sorry," he said again._

_And she turned toward him, a slight smile on her face. "I am, too. It's just that... when I see you so tired, I want to help. I don't always know what to do."_

_He lowered his eyes, ran his hand over the quilt that covered him, chewed at his lip. "I don't make things any easier, do I?" he murmured._

_She came over to the bed, sat on the edge of it, drew her knees up beside her. _

_"You make everything easier." She smiled gently. "When you were sick... I was afraid that I was going to lose you. I don't know what I would have done if I had. Kamin, I love you so much." She reached to touch his cheek, but then drew her hand away. He never returned the words, and that's all they were becoming, just words, empty, hollow. She got up. "We'd better get some sleep. Morning will be here before we know it."_

_After a few minutes in the bathroom, she came and climbed into bed, turned off the lamp, lay down with her back to him. "Goodnight, Kamin," she whispered in the darkness._

_He hesitated, reached out to lay his hand on her shoulder, but stopped himself, placed it on his pillow instead. "Goodnight, Eline."_

~vVv~


	3. Chapter 3

_His dreams did not seem like dreams; they seemed like his life. Waking on the Enterprise, pulling on the familiar cranberry colored uniform, sharing a breakfast of croissants and Earl Grey with Beverly Crusher, discussing Wesley's latest accomplishments at the Academy. Then up to the bridge, where everyone and everything was in its proper place: Will Riker to the right of him, his cool blue eyes belying a sharp wit; Deanna Troi to his left, soft-spoken and intuitive; Data at ops, ever ready to impart information on any given subject; and Ro Laren at navigation, talented, unique in her individualism. All was as it should be until a cube-shaped object appeared on the view screen and his pleasant life-like dream became a nightmare. The security of the bridge vanished and he was surrounded by the Borg._

_He jolted awake, sitting straight up in bed, covered in a cold sweat. He was shaking uncontrollably, and every shadow, each dark corner, was inhabited by a non-existent horror. Eline stirred beside him, turning over in her sleep, sighing softly. Not wanting to wake her, he stumbled into the bathroom, closed the door, switched on the light. He leaned against the sink, stared into the mirror. It was his face looking back at him, and he touched the smooth surface of the glass making sure for the millionth time that it was real, solid, not a dream. The Enterprise was the dream, and the Borg a nightmare that had followed him into this other world._

_He felt too weak to stand, and he sank down to the floor, leaned against the wall. He was never going home, he knew that now. He would never wear that uniform, never eat a leisurely breakfast with Beverly Crusher, never sit in the command chair of the Enterprise, never be among the stars again. He was bound, unshakably, to this world, this life, and the hopelessness rose inside him, the frightening, helpless feeling that there was not a damned thing he could do._

_Tears came, racking, choking sobs that he couldn't control. He drew his knees up to his chest, pressed his cheek to the cool, tiled wall. He wanted to go home; he wanted to read his books and sit in his ready room, watch his tropical fish swim lazily in their aquarium. He wanted to argue with Beverly over his annual physical, play chess with Guinan, discuss warp technology with Geordi LaForge. _

_He wanted to stand at the viewport in his quarters, watch space unfold around him. He wanted his life back, and he cried with the knowledge that what he wanted, he could not have._

_"Kamin?" The voice was gentle, the hands on his shoulders soft._

_He gasped for breath, trying unsuccessfully to stop the tears, wiping hastily at his eyes with the back of his hand._

_"Shh," Eline soothed, sitting on the floor beside him, taking him in her arms. _

_Normally, he would have pulled away, never had he allowed her to comfort him after a nightmare. But he was so tired, so frightened. And he let her hold him, rock him gently, his head resting on her shoulder. "It's all right, darling." _

_She held her cheek to the back of his neck, her skin warm on his._

_"I miss them," he sobbed. "I miss them so much." He drew in a shuddering breath. "I keep... I keep dreaming about them. They were real, and now they're just a dream. And I can't reach them; I can't touch them!"_

_She tightened her hold on him. "I'm real, Kamin, I'm not a dream. I'm real."_

_Long minutes passed, and his breathing became easier. Eline ran her fingers over his face, brushed at the tears._

_He stared up at her. "This is my life now," he whispered, accepting what he could not change._

_She held her hands to his cheeks. "This has always been your life."_

_He shook his head slowly. "No. I had another one, and now it's gone."_

_"But I'm here. And I love you." She pressed her lips to his and kissed him. And for the first time, he returned the kiss._

The knock at the door woke him, and he opened his eyes, looked around. It was the bathroom in his cabin, and he was sitting on the floor, his head leaning against the wall.

The knock came again, accompanied by a voice. "Jean-Luc? Are you all right?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine, Beverly." He braced his hand against the wall, pushed himself to his feet.

"Are you finished with your shower?"

He realized he was holding a damp towel, and he answered affirmatively. "Yes, I'm all finished."

"Good." He could hear the relief in her voice. "I laid your uniform on the bed. I'll be in the next room."

"Thank you. I'll be out in just a moment."

He stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. Even now this life seemed like a dream; he vaguely remembered taking a shower, and yet he clearly recalled his memory of Eline.

_They held each other close the rest of the night, Eline's head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. With her arms around him, he was safe, and it felt right lying beside her. He didn't pull away from the touch of her skin on his body, the rhythm of her heart beat against his __chest. _

_Gently, he ran his hand along her arm, and she stirred awake._

_"Why aren't you sleeping?" she murmured._

_"I'm watching you." He could see the faint shadow of her smile in the early morning light._

_"You need your sleep, Kamin."_

_He sighed, pulled her closer. She was his life now, and he held on to her for all he was worth. "Don't worry," he whispered, brushing his fingers through her hair, "I have what I need."_

~vVv~

"I want you to know that this is against my better judgment." The pronouncement was made with the best "doctor voice" Beverly Crusher could muster after only a few hours of restless sleep. But still it carried an official tone that definitely had to be heeded.

"So noted," the captain replied as the turbo-lift moved almost imperceptibly through the ship.

"I just don't think you should be going back to work so soon."

He looked at the woman standing beside him. "Doctor Crusher, correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you the one who laid my uniform out on the bed for me this morning?"

"Only because I knew you would insist upon wearing it."

He nodded. "Yes, I would have. Just as I insist upon reporting for duty."

A worried frown creased her face. "You need rest, Captain. In fact, a few days of shore leave wouldn't be a bad idea," she added hopefully.

"Beverly, in my mind I have had over thirty years of shore leave. And on a very nice planet." He smiled. "But now, I think returning to the bridge would be the best thing for me. If only to further ground me in this reality. Don't you agree?"

She hesitated, then sighed. She hated it when he did that. The ability to find logical points of reasoning in order to defend one's position was a highly useful skill for a starship captain to possess. And Picard not only possessed it; he'd mastered it, actually raised it to some sort of higher art form.

And much to the doctor's dismay, he used the ability to his benefit. In other words, he could talk himself out of any situation he deemed undesirable, and Crusher knew when she'd lost an argument. The lift stopped and the doors opened.

"I believe this is your deck," Picard informed her, a wry grin on his face.

She reluctantly stepped out. "You call if you need me," she firmly instructed.

"I most certainly will, Doctor. Happy day." And the doors slid closed.

Crusher's concern shifted to confusion. "Happy day?"

~vVv~

It was like the dream. They were all there: Riker, Troi, Data, Ro. Picard stepped off the turbo-lift and strode down the ramp to the lower bridge. His first officer vacated the command chair.

"As you were, Number One." He headed toward his ready room. "I'll be in here if I'm needed."

"Sir?"

He looked back at his first officer.

Riker smiled. "It's good to see you here."

"Thank you, Commander. It's... good to be here."

The door to his ready room slid open and closed behind him, and he stood for a moment, studied his office. It, too, was as he remembered. The case that held his antique copy of Shakespeare's plays, the model of the Stargazer, his lion fish. Even after he'd fallen in love with Eline and his other life, there had been times when he'd longed to be back here, in this room, with these familiar things around him.

He crossed over to his desk, sat down in the chair. I'm home. The thought kept repeating itself in his mind. Reflexively, he picked up the crystal from the table behind him. It still fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, its facets cool and smooth. He'd found a rock in the front yard of his house in Ressick to take the crystal's place. It had been about the same shape, and when he'd needed to think, and he wasn't playing his flute, he would hold it, shift it back and forth between his hands. Oh, how Eline had laughed at him and his "thinking rock," as she called it. But the solid weight of it had helped to solve many a problem.

_"You're thinking again," Eline smiled as she folded the laundry. Her tone intimated that his thinking was sometimes a dangerous thing._

_He looked up, her words interrupting a convoluted thought. "Guilty as charged." He set the rock on the table._

_"And what are you trying to figure out now? The amount of rainfall we've had in the past ten years in proportion to the population increase here in Ressick and the surrounding communities?" She was trying not to laugh at him. At times, her husband and his rock drove her absolutely crazy._

_He shook his head. "No, no, nothing really. Just thinking." He took a shirt out of her hands and helped with the folding. He was surprised at how domesticated he'd become. Even more surprised that he enjoyed it._

_"I know you better than that, Kamin. You don't play with that rock unless you're giving serious thought to something."_

_He sighed. She had come to know him very well. "All right. I was thinking of building a telescope."_

_"A telescope?" She wondered daily at some of the words he used._

_He leaned toward her, eager to explain. "It's an instrument that's used to look at the stars. It's really very simple. You see, it consists of-"_

_She dropped the towel she was folding, held her hand up, and sighed. "Kamin, you spend most of your evenings outside looking at the stars already."_

_"Yes, but a telescope would allow me to see them much more closely," he rationalized._

_She shrugged. "Well then, I suppose you'd better build one."_

_He picked up the rock again, turned it over in his hand. "I'll have to draw up some plans, diagrams. But I think I can do it." There was an edge of excitement in his voice, despite his wife's disinterest._

_Eline gathered the folded laundry in her arms. "I'm sure you can." She headed toward the stairs._

_"When I'm finished, I'll let you look through it," he called after her, even as he began to rummage through the cabinet drawers looking for paper and pencil to begin his project._

_"That's all right, dear. The stars are your hobby. Everything I love is right here on the ground."_

Picard set the crystal on his desk, the overhead light glinting off the edges and angles. How many times had he inadvertently hurt her feelings? So wrapped up in his own interests that he'd failed to see what was truly important. He got up and walked over to the viewport, stared out into the blackness of space. All those years he'd spent looking for new stars to explore, and now, the only ones he wanted to see were the ones that had hung over Ressick.

_"I'm going to name that one." Meribor pointed up at the starlit sky._

_"It's my turn to name one," Batai argued._

_"You can name that one over there."_

_"But I want to name that one, Mer."_

_"Pick another one."_

_"No!"_

_"Here, here." Their father interrupted. "Let's not quarrel over it." He looked to his left, where his daughter sat cuddled next to him. "Meribor, why don't you let Batai name that one, after all, you've named quite a few already."_

_"But he's only four," she complained._

_"I can still name one," Batai leaned over his father's legs and shouted at his sister._

_"Oh, all right," she gave in, "but give it a good name, Batai. It's a pretty one."_

_"What's pretty?" Eline appeared at the top of the stairs, and walked across the roof towards them. She held a plate of cookies in her hand._

_"The stars are, Mother. Don't you think so?"_

_Eline set the plate on the table and sat down beside her in the large patio chair. She smiled at her daughter. "Yes, they are pretty."_

_Meribor reached out and picked up a cookie, took a big bite. "We're naming them."_

_"Don't talk with your mouth full," her father reminded._

_She swallowed. "See that pretty one right there. Batai's going to name it."_

_"Just as soon as he finishes eating," Eline laughed, watching as her son scrambled off Kamin's lap, snagged a handful of cookies, and resumed his place on his father's knee._

_"I named that one over there," Meribor said._

_"And what did you name it?"_

_"Ariel."_

_Eline nodded. "Your father's been telling you stories again."_

_"He tells wonderful stories, Mother."_

_"Oh, I know he does." She smiled over at her husband. He sat there silently munching on a cookie._

_"Batai, have you decided yet?" Meribor demanded._

_"Uh-huh. I'm going to name it Puck," he said proudly._

_Eline laughed again. "He has been telling you stories."_

_"Is it a good name, Mer?" Batai looked at her, eager for his older sister's approval._

_She nodded. "Yeah, it's a good name."_

_"I like Ariel, too," he yawned, laying his head against his father's shoulder. _

_"They're both pretty."_

_"I think I like the stars almost as much as like the mountains," Meribor whispered as she climbed into her mother's lap._

_Eline folded her arms around her daughter, and moved closer to Kamin, resting against him. "So, I guess tomorrow we'll have to go for a walk and name the mountains?"_

_"Mother, they already have names," Meribor informed her with all the wisdom of a nine-year-old._

_"That's right. I forgot." She smiled at Kamin. "So, dear, did your children let you name a star?"_

_He nodded._

_"Father named that one." Meribor pointed to the brightest star in the night sky._

_"And did he get the name from one of his stories?"_

_Meribor shook her head. "I don't think so."_

_"Well, what did he name it?"_

_"Enterprise," Batai answered sleepily._

_Eline stared into her husband's eyes._

_"I thought it was appropriate," he murmured._

_She laid her head on his shoulder. "It is."_

_"I don't want to reach it anymore," he assured, wrapping his arm around her and pulling his family close. "I have everything I want right here."_

~vVv~

"We could meet in your ready room if you'd prefer," Troi offered, looking at the captain.

He sat nervously on the couch across from her. "No. No, this is fine." He placed his hands on the cushions beside him. "It's, uh... very comfortable."

Troi smiled knowingly. "You don't really want to be here, do you?"

"No... yes." He rubbed his eyes, exhaled a deep breath. "I'm not sure what I want."

"Why don't you tell me about your life in Ressick?"

Picard shook his head. "It wasn't really a life. It was just an illusion."

"But it was real to you."

He lowered his gaze from the counselor, stared at the coffee table that separated them. "Very real," he murmured.

"You were married?"

He nodded.

"What was her name?"

"Eline."

"Tell me about her."

"She was... a good person. Very kind, gentle."

"And you loved her?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Deanna, I don't think-"

"And you loved her."

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't remember the actual moment that I fell in love with her, but... I did love her. Very much."

"And you miss her?"

"Yes. I miss her."

_"He's still not eating, is he?"_

_"No. He just sits there. I knew that Mother's death would be difficult for him, for all of us, but... Mer, I've never seen him like this before. It's like he's lost."_

_"He is, Batai."_

_"I can hear you talking about me." The gruff voice came from the next room. _

_Moments later, Kamin appeared in the doorway. He walked slowly over to a chair and sat down. "You see, Batai, I don't just sit in one place all the time. I move around occasionally."_

_Meribor knelt on the floor beside him, took his hand in hers. "Won't you come and stay with me and Danic for a while?"_

_He sighed. "I'm just fine right here."_

_"But Batai says you're not eating."_

_He cast an accusatory look at his son. "I'm not hungry. Besides, I'm not as good a cook as..." His voice trailed off._

_Meribor squeezed his hand. "Father, we know you miss Mother. We all do. But she wouldn't want you to do this."_

_"And what is it that I'm doing?"_

_"You've stopped living, Father." She took a deep breath. "When Mother died, you just stopped. You don't go to council meetings, you don't work in your laboratory. Batai says you've stopped playing your flute. You don't even look at the stars anymore."_

_"Meribor," he reached out and touched her cheek, "I loved your mother very much. I just... I just need some time."_

_"We understand, Father." Batai took a step closer. "We just want you to know that... we love you."_

_He smiled up at him. "I know that."_

"And I think it will take some time."

He lifted his eyes. Troi sat across from him, talking.

"You have a lifetime of memories, Captain. And I know that right now they seem overwhelming to you, but they will eventually find a place in your subconscious mind. And then you can choose to remember them when you want to."

He nodded; he heard the words, but he wasn't sure if he believed them.

~vVv~


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading and reviewing. This story still has several more chapters to go.

He stopped just inside the door to Sickbay. He could see into the main examining room where Keiko O'Brien stood, holding her daughter Molly.

"I'm not sure. She was awake all night, crying."

Beverly Crusher took the baby from her arms. "Is she feverish?"

Keiko shook her head. "Not really."

"No, she doesn't seem to be." The doctor laid the baby on the bio-bed. "Well, we'll just find out what's bothering you, Miss Molly, and take care of it." She smiled up at Keiko. "It's probably something simple, like an earache."

Picard leaned heavily against the wall, remembering.

_"She looks just like her mother," he whispered, reaching out, taking the baby's tiny hand in his large one._

_Eline smiled when the infant didn't pull away. She wasn't going to be a fretful baby. Somehow, instinctively, she knew that. She was her father's daughter._

_"All that hair," he continued, completely in awe of the child in her arms._

_Eline looked down at the small head. There was indeed a lot of blond, fuzzy hair on top of it._

_"But those are your eyes, darling. And your chin. Here," she held the baby out to him, "why don't you hold your daughter?"_

_He pulled back. "I might drop her," he protested._

_She sighed. "I don't think so. And besides, you'd better get used to it. I'm not raising her on my own."_

_He cringed slightly. There were many times in the past years when he knew Eline had felt utterly alone, even when he'd been home. But it was different now. He held out his arms, and she placed the small bundle in his hands. The baby blinked up at him._

_"What are you going to name her, Kamin?"_

_"Name her?" he narrowed his eyes at the woman._

_"We have to call her something," she answered matter-of-factly._

_"But I thought that you would-"_

_Eline cut him off. "She's our daughter. And I want her father to name her." She smiled reassuringly at him. "Just don't name her after that ship of yours."_

_His eyes brightened. "Now I might like that," he said teasingly. "Of course, she's much smaller than the Enterprise, but..."_

_"Kamin." There was a warning in her voice._

_"And we could name the next one Stargazer," he grinned._

_Eline raised an eyebrow. "The next one?"_

_"Well, I mean... if there is... a next one."_

_She shook her head. "At the rate we're going, this one won't even have a name when the next one comes along."_

_"Meribor." He said it suddenly, and then said it again in affirmation. "Meribor."_

_"Meribor," Eline repeated. "I like it. Does it have a meaning?"_

_He nodded. "Yes. It's from an ancient language. It means 'a beautiful thing to look at.'"_

_She smiled in agreement. "She is that, isn't she?"_

_He handed the baby back to her, gazed lovingly at his wife and child. His family. He touched Eline's cheek, leaned over, kissed her softly. "Like I said, she takes after her mother."_

"Oh, good, you're here."

He blinked. Crusher stood beside him. He looked past her. Keiko and Molly were gone.

"The O'Brien baby?" he murmured.

"She's fine. Just one of those earaches children are always getting."

Picard nodded. "I know."

Crusher tilted her head, smiled slightly at him. "You know?" He didn't say anything, and she patted him on the arm. "Come on."

He followed her into the examining room. "Deanna said you needed to see me. You're not running more tests, are you?" There was an uneasy edge to his voice.

"No more tests, Jean-Luc. At least not right now." She was headed toward one of the small medical laboratories. "Geordi and I have something for you to look at. Something from the probe."

"The probe?" He stopped next to a bio-bed, placed his hand on it as if to steady himself.

Crusher looked back at him. "Geordi was able to extract some images from it."

"Images?" he breathed.

She smiled reassuringly. "He can explain better than I can. Come on. He's waiting for us."

LaForge was standing next to the computer when they walked in the room.

Picard stared at him. "What have you found, Commander?"

He shook his head. "Not much. We've done some preliminary scans of the probe, and although it's no longer functioning, we were able to retrieve some images."

"Yes," Picard acknowledged, "that's what Doctor Crusher told me."

"There aren't many of them," LaForge continued, "especially in regards to what you actually experienced, but we have isolated fourteen separate impressions."

"Of what?"

Crusher looked over at him. "That's what we're hoping you can tell us. Why don't you sit down?" She indicated a chair in front of the computer.

Picard sat down uneasily.

"Some of them are people, others are buildings, land areas," LaForge explained as he reached over and activated the computer. "There doesn't seem to be any relation from one image to the next. They're all fairly random. If you could tell us as much as possible, it would be helpful in recording the data on their civilization."

Picard nodded, then drew in a sharp breath when Eline appeared on the computer screen. She was young, smiling, just as she had been the first time he'd seen her.

"Jean-Luc." He felt Crusher touch his arm. "Is that Eline?"

"Yes."

The image changed.

"And that's..." he took a deep breath, "that's our house in Ressick. The stairs led to the roof. I built a porch up there."

The next picture took shape, the smiling face of a middle-aged man.

"Batai," Picard smiled. "He was a very good friend. We named our son in his honor."

The images continued before him, and he knew them all: the courtyard of Ressick, the mountains, Meribor on her third birthday, an older Eline sewing beside the fireplace, the planet administrator, five-year-old Batai playing on the patio, the river winding below the town, Meribor and Danic at their wedding, Batai with his mother the day he graduated from secondary school, Kamie drawing a picture, the stars in the summer sky.

And, to Beverly Crusher's surprise, their usually reticent captain told them what he remembered: the tree grew in the middle of the courtyard and all the people of the village would help to water it; he would hike for days in the mountains, at first by himself, and then with his family after the children had grown older; Meribor had been remarkably smart, even at three; Eline was always working to make their house a home; the administrator had known that Kataan was doomed; Batai had played for hours on their patio, creating imaginary friends and foes; the river had eventually gone dry; he'd been so proud the day Meribor married, and yet sad at the idea of giving away a daughter; he'd known that Batai would succeed at anything he put his mind to, be it botany, or physics, or music; Kamie could illustrate his grandfather's stories; and the unfamiliar stars had become old friends.

After the last image faded from the computer screen, he leaned back in his chair, exhaled a deep breath. "I hope that helps, Commander," he said quietly, his voice and his thoughts still far away.

"It does, sir, thank you." LaForge glanced over at Crusher. They were both shocked by Picard's vivid memories. A complete life lived in less than twenty-five minutes. And every moment had been detailed and full.

The chief engineer took a step toward the door. "I'll keep you informed of any other findings."

The captain nodded. "Please do."

LaForge left, and Picard yawned involuntarily.

Crusher laid a hand on his shoulder. "Remembering can be very tiring. Why don't you rest for a while? There's a room next door with an empty bed in it."

He waved a hand at her, dismissing her concern. "No, I'm fine. I need to get back to work." He stood up a bit too quickly, and swayed dizzily. Crusher took hold of his arm, and steadied him.

"You're not fine, Captain. And rest is no longer a suggestion. It's an order."

She led him into the next room, helped him settle onto the bed. He didn't protest any further, and that in itself worried her. She sat down beside him, reluctant to leave.

"You had a very beautiful family," she said quietly.

"Thank you." But the smile he gave her instantly faded. "I guess I really can't take any credit though, since it was all programmed."

She shook her head. "Those were your children, Jean-Luc. I'm not sure how, but they even looked like you."

His smile returned. "They did, didn't they?"

"Especially your son."

"My son." His voice was full of wonder at the very idea.

"We have something in common now."

He stared up at her, curiously.

She laughed slightly at his inability to figure it out. "We've both been parents. And I think we've both done a fine job of raising our children."

"I agree." Then the expression on his face changed again. "But you still have your child, Beverly, and mine never really existed."

He rolled over on his shoulder, turned his back to her, and closed his eyes.

Shutting her off from his pain and fear, he waited for sleep to come, longing for the dreams.

~vVv~

Beverly Crusher glanced nervously around the interior of Ten Forward, and then sighed. "I shouldn't be here."

Troi looked up from her double chocolate sundae. "And where should you be?" she countered. "In Sickbay, watching the captain sleep?"

"Yes," the doctor replied. "After all, that is my job. Taking care of the crew."

"Beverly, I know. That's my job, too, remember?"

Crusher leaned forward in her chair. "I'm sorry. It's just that... I'm worried about him." She said the words quietly, as if by admitting her concern she was revealing something more, something deeper, a feeling for Picard that she hadn't yet admitted to herself. It was an emotion Deanna Troi had sensed in the doctor for years.

"We're all worried. But he's all right."

"No, he's not." Crusher's voice was urgent. "You weren't there. You didn't see how he reacted to those pictures... those people. They're real to him, Deanna."

She nodded her head patiently. "Yes, they are. And when I said that he was all right, I meant that he was all right considering what he's experienced."

Crusher toyed with the spoon in her own sundae, stirring the melted ice cream and chocolate syrup. "He loves them," she murmured. "Yet at the same time, I think that he's mad at himself for believing in them." She took a deep breath. "He won't talk to me about it, though. He's, um... not very good with personal feelings."

"No, he's not," Troi agreed. "They embarrass him, make him more vulnerable than he wants to be." She reached over and placed her hand on the doctor's arm. "He's going to need us, Beverly. We have to help him realize that those memories, those people, are real for him, and that it's all right for him to love them."

~vVv~

_"Hold still," he laughed as Batai tried to roll away from him. "This is your day, and we want you looking handsome." After several minutes, he managed to pull the pale yellow outfit over the baby's plump arms and legs, and tie it under his chin. "There," he sighed. "All done."_

_Batai gurgled up at him._

_"You're very welcome," he smiled, picking him up and cradling him against his shoulder, the small body warm in his arms. Rocking him gently, he walked over and looked out the nursery window. Friends were already milling about the_ _patio, waiting for the ceremony to begin. "They've all come to see you, Batai," he whispered. "What do you think of that?"_

_The baby gave him a toothless grin._

_"I take it you're happy." He kissed his son on the top of the head. "Well, I am, too."_

_He glanced back at the patio, saw Meribor playing on the steps that led to the roof, the same steps he'd been sitting on the night he'd made his decision. He could remember it clearly: what he'd said, how Eline had reacted, how she'd looked, how she'd made him feel._

_She stood there, holding his shoes, smiling apologetically at him. "I've done nothing but nag all day. I'm sorry."_

_Slowly, he lowered the flute from his lips. "No, I'm the one who's sorry," he admitted, exhaling deeply. "Everything you said this morning was absolutely correct." His eyes did not look up at her, instead they seemed to be studying the instrument gripped in his hands. "I feel that I have given you so little, and you have given me so much."_

_Eline shook her head. "No," she assured, stepping over to him. "You're a good man, wonderful husband." She cast her eyes downward. "I didn't mean-"_

_"No," he disagreed, "not such a wonderful husband." He took a deep breath. "I spend my spare time charting the stars, disappear for days at a time exploring the countryside. My life is very much as it was. Old habits," he added regretfully._

_Eline looked back at him with a loving gaze. "You're gentle and kind. You never once raised your voice to me."_

_There was a moment's hesitation. "I'd like to ask your permission to build something?"_

_"Kamin, you've built your telescope, your laboratory," she shrugged slightly, "you don't need my permission for something new."_

_"This case, I think I do."_

_She stared at him, her confusion turning to worry. "What is it?"_

_"A nursery," he replied, his voice barely a whisper._

_She took a deep breath, gave him a look of surprise. "Really?"_

_He nodded._

_She took a step back, bringing her hands together in front of her chin. "Really?" she asked again, looking to him for affirmation, as if she weren't sure she'd heard him correctly._

_"Unless, of course," his tone lightened as he set his flute on the stairs behind him and stood up, "if you would prefer a porch, it would certainly be much easier to build and I could make a start on it right away." He stepped towards her, into the arms she held out to encircle him._

_"No, no," she murmured, as she hugged him, resting her chin on his shoulder, her cheek to his. Then she drew back slightly, looked into his eyes. She loved him, she knew that he loved her, and they sealed the promise between them with a gentle kiss._

_That had been the beginning; the moment he'd truly accepted his new life. He would never forget the Enterprise or the friends he'd known there, but here and now were all that mattered. First Meribor's birth, and then Batai's. Like the tree in the village courtyard, he was growing roots, becoming attached to this place, these people, finding that Eline and the children were all he really needed._

_The baby moved in his arms, bringing him back to the present. He looked down at his son. The decision to be a part of this life, to have children, had been difficult. But now, six years later, it was a decision he didn't regret. Meribor had made them a family, and the birth of Batai, four months earlier, had drawn __them even closer._

_"Now this one looks like me," he whispered, taking the baby from Eline, holding him confidently along one arm, the tiny head cradled in his palm._

_She smiled at her husband. "You're getting to be an expert at holding babies."_

_"You should see how fast I can change a diaper," he chuckled, rocking Batai back and forth._

_"Oh, don't worry, dear, I'm planning on watching you change a lot of diapers."_

_Kamin frowned slightly. "I just talked myself into that one, didn't I?"_

_"I'm afraid so."_

_"No problem." His face brightened. "I'll get Meribor to help."_

_Eline nodded. "She's going to love being a big sister. I think she's been looking forward to this baby as much as we have."_

_"She has been," Kamin agreed. "In fact, she's in the living room with the nurse, just dying to come in here."_

_"Go get her."_

_"You're sure you're feeling all right?"_

_"I've never felt better."_

_He handed the baby back to her, went to the bedroom door, and opened it._

_"Meribor," he called softly down the hall._

_Within moments, she appeared at her father's side._

_"Come in and meet your new brother," he invited._

_The little girl walked slowly across the room, Kamin's hand resting on her shoulder._

_Eline patted the bed beside her. "Come sit right here, and I'll let you hold him."_

_Meribor hesitated._

_"It's all right," Kamin assured, giving her a gentle hug. "You'd better get to know him. We're going to need your help taking care of him."_

_She looked up at her father with big grey eyes. "Really?"_

_He smiled. "Really."_

_Carefully, she scrambled up onto the bed, settled next to her mother. Kamin sat down with them, and propped a pillow beside her; then Eline placed Batai in his sister's arms._

_"He's little," Meribor whispered, her eyes big with wonder._

_"Yes, he is." Kamin stroked his daughter's hair. "And he's going to need you to help him."_

_Meribor nodded slowly. "I'll help." It was the most serious, solemn pledge she'd ever made in her __young life. Softly, she ran her hand over the baby's head, then looked up at her father. "He looks like you."_

_Eline laughed._

_A hurt expression crossed over Kamin's face. "What's so funny?" he frowned. "He does look like me."_

_"Yes, he does, dear," she smiled, reaching out and touching her husband's cheek. "It's just that... well, his hair will grow."_

_He grinned at the memory as he rubbed his chin over the soft, brown fuzz on Batai's head. "Your mother says it will grow," he murmured, "just don't get too attached to it."_

_Batai chuckled as if he understood his father's words and Kamin laughed. He looked forward to the conversations they would have._

_"How are my men doing?"_

_He turned. His wife was leaning in the open doorway, smiling at him._

_"Oh, Batai's fine. And I'll let you know about me if I make it through the ceremony."_

_"You'll be all right, dear." She joined them at the window._

_"How did I ever let you talk me into playing my flute?" he said dejectedly, suddenly plagued by second thoughts. "I didn't play at Meribor's naming ceremony."_

_"No, but you've improved in the past five years. And besides, the song you wrote for him is lovely."_

_"Thank you, but I didn't write it for Batai. I wrote it for you. I just play it for him."_

_Eline held her hand to his cheek. "I know. And now you can share it with all of our friends." She drew her hand away, placed a kiss where her fingers had been._

_Then she reached out and took Batai from his arms. "I can't believe you got him dressed," she commented, truly amazed. "He's such a wiggler."_

_"He is. But I just gave him a direct order to hold still, and he followed it."_

_"You'll have to teach me how to give orders like that." She laughed softly, picked up a small blanket from the crib and wrapped it around the baby._

_"Everyone's downstairs now. Are you ready?"_

_"Almost." He reached out and softly brushed his hand through her hair. "I just need a moment to tell my wife how much I love her."_

~vVv~


	5. Chapter 5

_They gathered in the living room and listened as he played his flute. Eline stood beside him holding Batai; Meribor came running in from outside. The music was a blessing, a song of thanks for what they'd been given, for what they shared as a family and a community. When the last note faded, their friends applauded. The sound startled Batai, and Eline kissed him, whispered softly in his ear._

_Kamin held up his hand in gratitude. "We name this child for a dear friend who died a year ago. But now, his memory will live on in his namesake." He looked over and smiled at his son._

_Eline held the baby a little higher. "We name you Batai. In his honor."_

_"And he's starting out in the warmth of friends," Kamin added sincerely. "Thank you."_

_They applauded again._

_"Please," he indicated the food with a wave of his hand, "help yourselves to something to eat."_

_They began to serve their plates, and Eline handed a sleepy Batai to a friend who'd graciously volunteered to put him down for a nap._

_Kamin made his way further into the room, placing his hand lovingly on Meribor's head as he passed by her._

_"Congratulations, Kamin," a neighbor offered, shaking his hand._

_"Thank you," he returned._

_Eline walked over with Meribor and joined him as he leaned against the stair railing. She smoothed her hands over the child's shoulder length blond hair, held her by the arms. "Seems like only yesterday we had Meribor's naming ceremony."_

_Kamin smiled lovingly at his daughter._

_"Go on," Eline said, sending her to play with a gentle push._

_"I remember." Kamin watched her go. "I was so nervous I was afraid that I would drop her. And now look at the little lady," he said with pride as Meribor played with their friends. She was so grown up now._

_But Eline laughed at him. "Oh, she's no lady. Tromping through the hills with you all day." She smiled at the man she loved so much. "Digging up those soil samples you insist upon collecting." She rolled her eyes slightly, touched him on the arm. "No, she's her father's daughter." The prediction she'd made at __Meribor's birth had definitely come true._

_"I always believed that I didn't need children to complete my life," he looked back at Meribor, "now I couldn't imagine life without them." He took a deep breath, and then tried to take another; his features tightened._

_Eline's smile faded. "Kamin? What is it?"_

_He gasped, and drew his hand to his chest, his body beginning to shake with convulsions. Reaching out, Eline tried, yet failed, to catch him as he fell forward onto the floor. She knelt beside him, her hand cradling his head. She looked up. "Get the doctor. Hurry."_

~vVv~

Beverly Crusher had finally managed to relax. Almost. She still felt a bit uneasy, but the hot fudge sundae Deanna Troi had ordered for her, to replace the first one that had melted a slow death, was beginning to help her unwind. There was something very therapeutic about chocolate. She and Troi agreed upon that even when they disagreed on other things.

"Perhaps we should get one for the captain," Troi suggested.

"He likes strawberry," Crusher replied.

They stared at each other for a moment, then both shook their heads.

"No wonder you're so worried about him," Troi whispered as if stunned by the revelation.

The doctor nodded. "Yes." She sighed. "I've tried prescribing chocolate in the past, but he refuses. Claims there's absolutely nothing wrong with him, and even if there were, he doesn't believe chocolate would help."

Troi frowned. "You wouldn't think a captain could be so misguided. It's truly a wonder he's made it this far in his career."

"I remember when I first met him." She punctuated the air with her spoon. "He and Jack and I went out to dinner one night, and when it came time for dessert, well, he ordered strawberry shortcake. I tell you, Deanna, I was shocked. But, Jack seemed to like him, so I gave him another chance."

"Beverly, that was... that was simply magnanimous of you. I don't think I could have been so understanding. Oh, I'm willing to accept other species, other lifestyles, but strawberry versus chocolate, now that's serious. You have tried to reform him over the years, haven't you?"

Crusher tried to keep a straight face, but she couldn't any longer, and she began to giggle. So did Troi. And their laughter rose louder until some of the others in Ten Forward turned to stare at them discreetly. It was then that Crusher's communicator beeped. A laugh turned into a gasp as her fingers automatically touched it.

"Doctor Crusher?" Troi recognized Ogawa's voice.

"Yes, what is it?" Her tone was all business now, despite the anxiety that flooded back over her.

"It's the captain. He's had some trouble breathing, but he's fine now. I just wanted to inform you."

"I'm on my way," she replied as she pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. She took a hurried step toward the door, felt Troi touch her arm. She looked at the counselor.

"He's fine now, Beverly," Troi said calmly, repeating Ogawa's words. "They've got it under control. Don't go rushing in there like this. Your concern for him could do more harm than good."

Crusher hesitated, drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "You're right, Deanna. Thanks." And her resumed pace toward the door was just as quick, but much less frantic.

~vVv~

Ogawa briefed her as soon as she entered Sickbay. Picard had awakened suddenly from a deep sleep, the medical monitors alerting the staff that he was having trouble breathing.

"His respiratory system seemed to be in a mild spasm," she informed Crusher, handing her the captain's medical file. "I gave him a shot of trioxyen. It worked almost immediately. I haven't been able to ascertain a cause, however."

Crusher headed toward Picard's room.

"He's resting comfortably now," Ogawa called after her.

Crusher paused a moment, looked over her shoulder. "Thanks, Alyssa."

Then taking a deep, calming breath, she walked into the room.

He lay propped up in bed, pulling restlessly at the front of the medical gown he was wearing. He glared at her. "I want my clothes back," he demanded. "Your staff practically ripped my uniform off, then gave me this..." he looked down at the gown in disgust, "this thing in return."

"I apologize for them," Crusher said evenly. "They were simply trying to save your life, and I suppose the uniform got in the way."

"Save my life? Hah!" he grimaced. "My life was never in danger. I just had a little trouble catching my breath."

Crusher stepped over to the side of the bed, studied the medical monitor above him. "Why?" she asked, taking a tricorder from her pocket and running it over his body.

"Why what?"

"Why were you having trouble catching your breath?"

He blinked at her. "How should I know? Besides, I'm fine now."

She pocketed the tricorder and stared down at him. "Then explain to me why you're as white as a sheet and still shaking?"

He groaned slightly, then a flicker of a smile crossed his face. "Sickbay sheets are blue, Doctor," he reminded her.

"Which is what you might have been if Alyssa hadn't given you that shot of triox."

"Oh, Beverly. Must you be so melodramatic?"

The expression on her face hardened. "Look here, I got called away from one of the best hot fudge sundaes I've had in a long time because one of my doctors informed me that the captain of this ship was having trouble breathing. So don't you dare accuse me of being melodramatic."

He was silent for a moment, looking up at her contritely. Then he grinned, almost like a little boy. "Hot fudge?" he whispered.

"Yes!" Crusher was exasperated. "It was a hot fudge sundae, and..."

"Could I have one?"

"What?" She stared at him in disbelief.

"Could I have a hot fudge sundae?"

She sat down heavily on the side of his bed, shaking her head in confusion.

"What's wrong?" he asked, touching her lightly on the arm. She could feel him trembling.

She looked into his eyes. "Jean-Luc, you don't like hot fudge."

"I don't?"

"No." She smiled slightly. "You like an occasional chocolate chip cookie, but you usually prefer something with fruit in it."

"I do?" he asked hesitantly.

She nodded.

He swallowed. "I... I ate hot fudge sundaes in Ressick." His eyes stared past her, focusing intently on the opposite wall. "Eline would make them for us. The children loved them. I did too." He sighed, reached up and rubbed his eyes. "I'm not sure who I am anymore. Am I Jean-Luc? Or am I Kamin?"

Crusher ran her hand along his arm. "You're Jean-Luc. I assure you of that."

"But how many other things will be different." His eyes met hers. "Which memories are mine? And which are his?"

"They're all yours, Jean-Luc." She said his name firmly. "And it's all right to have those other memories." She tightened her fingers on his shoulder. "It's all right to love those other people."

He looked away from her, embarrassed by her words. "They weren't real," he mumbled.

"Stop denying them. They were real. As real as I am. As real as Deanna and Will. They were your family." She felt his shoulder twitch, knew that he was crying.

She almost let go, but changed her mind and wrapped her arms around him. He started to pull away; she held him firmly. "It's all right," she whispered. "It's all right to remember."

~vVv~

He remembered, and she held him until his memories turned into dreams, and he fell asleep in her arms. _And then, Eline was there, lying beside him, listening as he talked long into the night, telling her_ _stories, describing his other life, introducing her to people she could never meet._

_"I think I would have liked this Beverly Crusher," she murmured._

_"You would have. She was very..." _

_"Very what?"_

_He smiled self-consciously in the darkness, shifted uneasily, unsure of the long dormant emotions he still felt for Beverly. He was glad Eline couldn't see him, for his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment._

_"Very what?" she asked again with a gentle nudge of her elbow to his ribs._

_He could hear the laughter in her voice. Could she tell? Had she come to know him so well that she could even sense the feelings he'd kept hidden from himself for so long?_

_"She was a very good friend," he answered, hoping that he sounded convincing._

_"And that's all?"_

_He drew away from her in the bed, stared at the shadowed outline of her body next to him. Had she been able to see the expression on his face, she would have been met with mild shock. "Yes, that's all," he said loudly. He had the ridiculous feeling that he was somehow defending his honor._

_Eline sighed. "Don't sound so offended, dear. It's just that it's taken you years to really talk about her, and now that you do, I always get the feeling that there was something more to your relationship than just friends."_

_"There wasn't." But he said the words almost remorsefully._

_Eline moved closer to him, and he felt the brush of her lips against his neck. "I understand."_

_He remained silent, not sure of what to say, if anything needed to be said at all._

_"We have a lot in common, Beverly Crusher and I." She stroked her hand over his chest, settled her head on his shoulder._

_"What's that?" he breathed._

_"We're both in love with you." She sounded relieved that there had indeed been someone in that other life who'd cared for him._

_"No... no," he started to disagree._

_"Shh." She placed a finger to his lips. "Don't you see? Men are always the last to know." And then, she kissed him._

~vVv~

Crusher insisted that he stay the night in Sickbay. He protested vehemently to no avail. She simply employed those two little words that he hated with a passion: "doctor's orders." Oh, what a multitude of sins they covered!

He glared at her as she crossed over to his bed, a tray in hand. She smiled encouragingly despite the expression on his face. "It's a little bit late for supper, but I thought you might like something to eat."

"What I would like," he replied, "is to return to my quarters."

"That's not what I suggested," she said with a shake of her head.

"No, but that is what I want."

She pulled a table over to the bed and placed the tray on top of it. "Jean-Luc." She found herself using his first name more, almost like an affirmation of who he was. "I will release you in the morning, barring any complications."

"Complications?" His eyes widened. "I'm not sick!"

"Perhaps not," she responded coolly, "but you need some rest."

"I just slept for six hours."

"With or without dreams?"

Their eyes locked for a moment, and then he looked away.

"Here." She pushed the tray table closer to him. "Try to eat something."

"I'm not hungry," he said stubbornly.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "If you don't eat, you really will be sick."

He glanced back at her, frowned slightly, but then picked up a spoon from the tray and took a bite of soup. He swallowed. Why were they always giving him soup?

"I ran some tests on you while you were asleep."

"And?" He held his next bite of soup midway to his mouth.

"I could find no physical reason as to why you suffered a respiratory spasm."

A smile spread over his face, and he lowered the spoon back to the bowl. "There. No reason. I told you I wasn't sick."

"I said no physical reason, Jean-Luc."

"Meaning?"

"I think the attack was brought on by whatever emotions you were experiencing at the time."

"I was asleep at the time."

She nodded. "Yes. But you were dreaming, weren't you?"

He took a deep, ragged breath. "Your saying that it was psychosomatic?"

"The reason, yes. The spasm itself was very real. In fact, it was very similar, although not as severe, as the spasm you experienced when we tried to break your contact with the probe."

His eyes shifted away from her, and seemed to focus inward, on a long ago memory. "That's what happened," he breathed.

"What?" Crusher touched his shoulder.

He swallowed. "Nothing."

"Jean-Luc, what were you dreaming this afternoon? Before the attack."

"Eline thought I was dying," he answered, his voice low. "I thought I was just leaving. Coming back here, or going somewhere else."

Crusher pushed the tray table away and moved closer to him. Her fingers on his shoulder tightened reassuringly. "Tell me."

_It hurt. The pain lanced through his chest with every gasp, and he struggled to stay conscious, his eyes fastened to Eline's face. There were other faces peering over her shoulders. And there was Meribor, tears trailing down her cheeks. He tried to reach out to her, but he couldn't move, couldn't raise his __arm, could only lay there, shaking convulsively on the floor of his living room while friends and neighbors looked on. They'd sent for a doctor. He'd heard Eline. She knelt beside him, so calm, controlled, except for her eyes. There he saw panic and fear. And it scared him. He tried to speak her name._

_"Shh, Kamin. The doctor's coming."_

_In the distance, he could hear a baby crying. It sounded like Batai, but he wasn't sure. He searched the faces above him looking for Meribor again, but she wasn't there. Someone had taken her away, just as the other faces were beginning to move back and scatter. The edges of his vision were growing darker, and the pain in his chest intensified. He was afraid he was going to pass out, and if he did where would he wake up? Would he still be here with Eline and the children, or would they be gone, like Beverly and Will and Deanna were gone?_

_He felt as if her were suffocating, and he gasped for air, each breath shallow and painful. And then, the village doctor was leaning over him, placing something over his nose and mouth. He struggled against him, for as his breathing eased, his vision dimmed until he could only see Eline's face, and then he could see nothing._

~vVv~


	6. Chapter 6

_He drifted up through layers of fog and clouds, like leaving San Francisco by shuttle on a rainy day. But although he wanted to wake up, he couldn't seem to open his eyes. He knew he was lying in bed. His bed. The one he shared with Eline. And there was someone beside him, a warm body sitting next to his arm, and voices that were familiar._

_"Eline, you need to get some rest," a man said._

_"I have to stay with him."_

_"He doesn't know you're here."_

_"Yes, he does."_

_Footsteps came closer to the bed. "I've given him enough oxygen so that his breathing is stable for now. I'll be with him in case he has another attack."_

_"Good. That'll make two of us."_

_"Eline!"_

_"You're sure it's not his heart?" She seemed to ignore his concern for her._

_"No. It's not his heart."_

_"Then what is it?"_

_"I don't know."_

_The fog began to shroud around him again, the darkness closed in, and the voices faded away._

~vVv~

_The pain was back, and again he couldn't breathe. There was someone there immediately, placing a mask over his nose and mouth, and this time he didn't resist. He could feel a hand around his, soft, familiar fingers squeezing gently._

_"Breathe easy, Kamin. It's all right. I'm here."_

~vVv~

Picard blinked, surprised to find his eyes wet with tears. He brushed hastily at them with the back of his hand and sighed deeply. "I was sick for over a week. Drifting in and out of consciousness. I don't think she ever left my side." He hesitated for a moment, and Crusher offered him a glass of water. He took a drink, then handed it back to her. "The doctor never knew for sure what had caused the attacks. Once they were gone, they never returned. And I... I guess after a while I forgot all about it. Well, not really forgot it, seeing that it happened during Batai's naming ceremony, I just didn't think about it. But I know Eline did. I think she remembered it every day of her life. There was always something in the way she looked at me after that." He laughed slightly. "Sort of a possessive look. Like a lion for her cub. But she never talked about it. Not once. It was almost like talking about it would bring it back." He crossed his arms over his chest, shook his head. "For a long time, I felt guilty for the pain I'd caused her."

"It wasn't your fault, Jean-Luc." Crusher ran her fingers over his cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

He blushed. "I know. But still..."

She took a hypospray from her coat pocket. "I'm going to give you something now to help you sleep. It'll suppress your dreams. I think you could use the rest."

He nodded. "I think I could, too."

~vVv~

She released him the next morning, admitting, reluctantly, that a night's sleep unhampered by dreams had improved his condition, both mentally and physically.

"But," she pointed a finger at him, "no work today, and I want you to take a nap after lunch."

"Beverly, please, I am not a child."

"I didn't say you were. Now, remember: lunch, a nap, a good supper later, then early to bed." She pressed a small bottle into his hand. "Take two of these before you go to sleep."

He stared at her inquisitively.

"They're for the dreams. Until you and Deanna get those memories sorted out, it'll help not to have to worry about them."

"No dreams at all?"

"None." She patted him on the shoulder. "Now, I'm sure there's some book in your quarters that you could spend the morning reading."

~vVv~

He wasn't sure how many times he'd read _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Of course, he felt like it had been ages since he'd read it last. Well, maybe only thirty years, but ages all the same. He'd told the story to Meribor and Batai time after time. Out of all of Shakespeare's plays, it had been their favorite.

Because of the fairies Meribor had explained to him once. He supposed children liked fairies and enchanted woods, and the idea of some unlucky simpleton winding up with a donkey's head. With careful thought, he'd been able to tell them the play almost word for word, and they'd sat on his knee in rapt attention. And although Meribor understood that the stories had been written by a man named Shakespeare, for the longest time Batai thought his father was making them all up as he went along.

He read the rest of the morning away, the hours passing much more quickly than he realized. He was just nearing the end of the play when his communicator beeped.

"Picard here," he responded.

"Captain." Beverly Crusher. Checking up on him. "I just wanted to see how you were feeling?"

"I'm feeling fine, Doctor. Thank you."

"And you enjoyed your lunch?"

Lunch? He'd forgotten to eat lunch. He quickly realized that his oversight wouldn't be looked upon favorably by the good doctor. And so, he did something he rarely did. He lied.

"Lunch was wonderful, Beverly. I had a big bowl of... soup. And a salad, and crackers. And fruit. And a glass of milk." There, he thought that sounded balanced. Surely she couldn't object to that.

"What? No dessert?"

"I thought I'd have that after my nap," he replied smugly, somewhat pleased with his dietary imagination.

"That's a good idea. I'll check in on you later. Sleep well."

Picard leaned back in his chair and groaned. He suddenly felt like a prisoner in his own quarters. It wasn't much better than being confined to Sickbay. Crusher actually expected him to be a good, little patient: eat his lunch, take his nap, eat supper, go to bed. Like a five-year-old sent to his room. Well, the truth was that he wasn't hungry just yet. And he certainly wasn't tired. And he suddenly had the urge not to be where the doctor thought he was.

He went into his bedroom and changed out of his uniform. He felt like taking a walk through the ship, and although he knew his crew would recognize him he didn't want to be overly noticeable. He pulled on a pair of grey pants and a light blue shirt, to which he pinned his communicator, wishing for just an instant that he could leave it in his room, but knowing, of course, that he couldn't. _But no one will call_ _me_, he thought as he smoothed a hand over his fringe of silver-grey hair. _After all, Beverly thinks I'm_ _taking a nap, and she wouldn't want to disturb me._

He picked up his copy of _Midsummer _as he walked toward the door. Maybe somewhere, on deck thirty-nine perhaps, he could find an out-of-the-way corner of an observation lounge and finish the play. He stepped into the corridor, feeling foolishly like a schoolboy playing hooky. Yet, it was a feeling he liked. And for a fleeting moment he was reminded of those afternoons on Ressick when he would quit work early and hike up into the mountains alone.

~vVv~

He did indeed wind up in an out-of-the-way corner in an observation lounge, although it wasn't on deck thirty-nine. It was on deck eighteen, saucer section, right in the middle of the family quarters, an area he rarely had cause to visit. He'd been surprised to find the lounge empty, but pleased. The floor to ceiling viewports afforded an excellent panorama of space, a different angle from what he was used to. He sat for long minutes just staring at the stars before he opened his book to finish reading. The name "Puck" jumped out at him. Batai's star. The children had kept those stars for years, watched them and tracked their paths across the sky. He looked back out the viewport, halfway wondering if he searched hard enough and long enough, could he ever find the light from those stars. He shook his head. "Nonsense," he murmured, and continued to read.

He wasn't aware of the small figure that had entered the lounge while he'd been contemplating the existence of Batai's star, didn't know that there was anyone watching him until he heard the voice.

"Captain Picard?"

He looked up, startled. Alexander Rozhenko stood just inside the doorway.

The child took a step backwards. "I'm sorry to disturb you." He retreated further.

Picard shook his head. "No, it's all right, Alexander. You didn't disturb me."

"I just came to feed the turtles," the boy said quietly, nodding toward the opposite end of the lounge.

Picard followed Alexander's gaze. He hadn't even noticed the small, glassed in box in the corner.

"It's a school experiment," Alexander explained as he walked over to the turtles. "I'm letting them live in different rooms every week to see if their habits change."

"Do you mind if I watch while you feed them?" Picard got up, tucked his book under his arm, and joined Alexander by the turtle tank.

"No, sir. You can help feed them if you like." He opened a plastic box and took out two large leaves of lettuce. He handed one to Picard. "All you have to do is hold it in front of their mouths and they'll eat it. See." He held his leaf in front of the larger of the two, and the turtle began to eat. Following Alexander's instructions, Picard held his lettuce leaf out to the smaller one.

"You know, I have fish in my ready room. But they're fed automatically."

Alexander looked up at him. "My dad told me about your fish."

"He did?"

"Yes, sir. He says they're really pretty."

Picard smiled at the idea of his Klingon Security Chief describing pretty fish to his son. But then, weren't all fathers different with their children? Hadn't he been with Meribor and Batai?

He noticed that Alexander kept looking at him surreptitiously. "Is there something wrong?" he inquired of the boy.

Alexander shook his head. "No, sir, it's just that... I've never seen you without your uniform."

"Oh, I see. Well, I don't wear it always." He dropped the remainder of the lettuce leaf in the turtle box. "You see, I'm sort of taking a day off."

"Who's running the ship?"

He smiled again. "Commander Riker, and Mister Data. And, of course, your father. It's a good thing I have them up on the bridge, or I'd have missed feeding the turtles."

"You were reading." Alexander stared at the book under the captain's arm.

"Yes, I was." Picard sat down on a nearby sofa. "Have you ever heard of William Shakespeare?"

Alexander nodded. "My teacher talked about him one day. He wrote a long, long time ago."

"Yes, he did. He wrote plays about kings and castles, and great battles."

Alexander's eyes lit up. "I think I would like his plays."

"You probably would." For the first time, Picard realized that many of Shakespeare's works would be ideal reading for a Klingon. "But, he also wrote about people falling in love, and getting married."

Alexander frowned. "I'm never getting married. I'd rather go fight great battles. Or explore places."

"Well, you know it is possible to do all those things."

"You didn't."

"Didn't what?"

Alexander suddenly looked a bit frightened, but he didn't back away. "You didn't get married. I mean, you don't have a wife."

Picard drew in a sharp breath. "No, Alexander. I don't have a wife."

"Did you ever want one?"

The captain shifted uncomfortably, wondering how he'd managed to end up in this discussion with an eight-year-old child.

"Didn't you ever want to be a father?" The question instantly reminded him of a long ago conversation he'd had once with Wesley Crusher. At that time, he'd simply said that wishing for a thing did not make it so. But now, he gave Alexander a more direct answer.

"Yes. I did."

The boy simply nodded, and went back to feeding his turtles. Relieved that there were no more questions, Picard opened his book and read. A few minutes later, Alexander headed toward the doorway.

"Goodbye, sir."

Picard looked up. "Goodbye, Alexander. Thank you for letting me help with your turtles."

He smiled. "You're welcome." And then he was gone.

Picard sighed and leaned back against the sofa. All the while that Alexander had been there he couldn't help but think of Batai at that age. Only instead of turtles, he'd had rabbits. Twelve of them in a hutch on the roof. Come to think of it, they'd eaten lettuce also.

_"I think we need another cage." Batai eyed the hutch appraisingly._

_"Either that, or we need to have a rabbit sale."_

_"Sell them?" he looked up at his father in shock._

_Kamin shook his head. "Batai, a dozen rabbits are just about ten too many."_

_"But they're my baby rabbits."_

_"I know they're your baby rabbits, but... don't you have some friends who might like to have one?"_

_"Well," he stared down at the pebbles that covered the roof, "Shaw said once that he might like to have one."_

_"See, you could give one to each of your friends and then you could visit them."_

_"I suppose."_

_"I think it's a good idea. Run downstairs and get a basket from your mother, and we'll go deliver them now."_

_He hesitated._

_"Go on."_

_"All right."_

_A few minutes later, he returned, followed by Eline._

_"Batai told me about your plan."_

_Kamin eyed the basket in his wife's hand. "I take it you approve."_

_"Whole heartedly." She handed the basket to Batai, and they watched as their son crossed over to the other side of the roof, opened the hutch, and began to gather the little rabbits together._

_"He's growing up," she murmured._

_Kamin wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Yes, he is. I'm rather proud of him." Then he laughed._

_"What's so funny?"_

_"I was just thinking. You know, I used to mediate peace agreements between warring planets, and now I'm in charge of rabbit distribution."_

_Eline studied her husband carefully. "Which responsibility do you prefer?"_

_"I'm not sure." He groaned softly as he watched Batai coming toward them with the wriggling basket. "Although, I think dealing with warring planets just might be easier than distributing rabbits."_

But they'd done it. They'd found perfectly good homes for all ten, and Batai had even secured visiting rights from the new owners. Picard smiled at the memory.

It seemed like only yesterday. He frowned. Damn, it had been yesterday. All of it had been yesterday.

He looked back at his book and quickly finished reading the play.

~vVv~

On the way back to his quarters a half hour later he saw more children than he usually saw in a month. A few of them looked up at him in awe, some even timidly said hello. Even the handful of civilian crew members he ran into seemed surprised to see him in this area of the ship. He made a mental note to himself to visit on a more regular basis.

He felt a bit guilty as he stepped into his quarters, almost like a teenager who's been out past curfew and has to come sneaking in through a back window.

Luckily, there was no one there to catch him. He'd had the uneasy feeling that Beverly Crusher would be waiting for him. But she wasn't.

He glanced at the chronometer on his desk. 1500 hours. He yawned involuntarily, and decided that a nap wasn't an altogether bad idea. He remembered that he and Eline used to take them when Meribor was a baby. They'd slept whenever she did. He'd never realized how something so little could absolutely exhaust you.

He went into his bedroom, and sat down on the bed. He was suddenly too tired to put on his pajamas. Instead, he picked up the small box that held his flute, then lay back on the bed. He ran his hands over the smooth wooden surface, and closed his eyes. He hadn't eaten, he hadn't taken the pills that Crusher had given him. He didn't even think of those things. All he thought of as he drifted off to sleep were the last few lines from the play he'd read:

If we shadows have offended,

Think but this, and all is mended,

That you have but slumber'd here

While these visions did appear.

~vVv~


	7. Chapter 7

_"Kamin." The voice whispered loudly in his ear. "Kamin, wake up."_

_"Huh? What?" he mumbled, still half asleep._

_"You're snoring. Wake up."_

_He opened one eye. Eline's face was inches away from his. "You woke me up just to tell me that I was snoring?"_

_"Shh," she hissed. "Not so loud. You'll wake the baby." She glanced toward the foot of the bed where Meribor lay in her cradle._

_Kamin propped himself up on his elbows, stared down at the wooden cradle he'd made just a few months earlier. "Sorry," he whispered. Then he quietly slipped out from under the covers and crawled to the end of the bed, looked down at his daughter. "She's still asleep." He smiled back at Eline. "Besides, I don't snore that loud."_

_"Kamin, you woke me from a sound sleep."_

_He crawled back up next to her. "I did not."_

_She laughed softly, reaching out and smoothing the hair over his ear. "I think it's time you faced it, dear. You snore, very loudly."_

_He frowned. "You've never complained before."_

_"Only because I've gotten used to it. More or less."_

_"Well, apparently our daughter is used to it, too."_

_Eline smiled. "I guess she is."_

~vVv~

_The voices came from the side of his bed; half awake, he could barely hear them. Soft, hushed tones of conspiracy._

_"Mother says if you roll him over he'll stop."_

_"Really?"_

_"Uh-huh."_

_Silence for a moment._

_"Does it hurt?"_

_"What?"_

_"Snoring."_

_"I don't think so. Usually you sleep right through it."_

_"Does everybody snore?"_

_"Only old people."_

_"Is Father old?"_

_"He must be. Cause he sure snores a lot."_

_"It's loud, too."_

_"Yeah."_

_Another silence._

_"You think we should?"_

_"What?"_

_"Roll him over?"_

_"I guess. You push his legs and I'll push his back. Ready... Push."_

_He came fully awake instantly, just as he hit the floor. "What?" he managed before the impact took his breath away._

_Eline came running into the room. He stared up at her._

_"Are you all right?"_

_"I'm fine. I think." He stood up slowly, rubbing his shoulder, and turned toward the opposite side of the bed. There was no one there. Looking back at Eline, he saw her smiling, trying not to laugh, and pointing under the bed._

_He shook his head. Ambushed by his own children, in his own room. "All right," he said, using his best Dixon Hill accent, "I've got youse guys cornered. Ya' might as well come on out."_

_Two heads, one brown, the other blond, appeared from beneath the bed. Two sets of grey eyes stared up at him._

_"I'd like to know the meaning of this?" he continued._

_"Well..." Meribor began, then looked nervously at her brother._

_"It was her idea," Batai whispered._

_"What was her idea?" Eline asked, walking over to stand next to Kamin, her hand gently touching his shoulder. He winced slightly._

_Batai scrambled out from under the bed, eager to confess. "Meribor said that you said that if we wanted Father to stop snoring all we had to do was roll him over." He looked down at the floor. "So we did."_

_"Meribor." Eline stared down at her. "You pushed your father out of bed to stop him from snoring?"_

_The girl got up and stood next to Batai. "I didn't mean for him to fall." She looked at Kamin. "I'm sorry, Father."_

_Slowly, a smile spread across his face. "It's all right. Just," he stifled a laugh, "just don't try it again."_

_"We won't," they promised in unison, shaking their heads solemnly._

_"Why don't you go outside and play for a while?" Eline suggested._

_And they were out the door in a flash. Kamin sat down on the edge of the bed, stared up at his wife. "This is your fault," he said good-naturedly._

_She sat down beside him, kissed him on the cheek. "Perhaps. But it does prove one thing."_

_"What?" he inquired, puzzled._

_"Meribor must have never gotten used to your snoring."_

~vVv~

He awoke suddenly with the distinct feeling that there was someone in his room.

"Is anyone there?" he called. But there was no answer.

He glanced at the chronometer on the bedside table. 2100 hours. He grimaced. Another six hour nap. Probably not what Crusher had had in mind.

He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. He felt a little dizzy, and he had to reach out and brace his hand against the wall to steady himself. Eat a good supper. Crusher's words echoed in his head. "All right, Doctor," he murmured aloud, almost as if she were standing beside him.

He walked slowly into the other room, and ordered pork chops, asparagus and scalloped potatoes from the food dispenser. Sitting down at the table, he began to eat. But although it tasted good, he wasn't much interested in his supper.

All he really wanted to do was sleep. And so, leaving the plate of food barely touched, he went back into his bedroom to dream.

~vVv~

Beverly Crusher stood in the dim light of Picard's cabin. He was asleep. She could hear his gentle snoring issuing from the bedroom, and she smiled, remembering how she'd grown used to the sound when he'd spent so much time in Sickbay after the Borg. She'd even teased him about it, and he'd denied that he snored at all. She'd had half a mind to record it.

She looked around, saw the plate of food sitting on the table, and frowned. She knew she should have come earlier, if only to make sure he ate properly. She went to the bedroom door and looked in. Picard lay sprawled on his back, one arm curled above his head, the other over his chest, his hand holding a wooden box.

The flute. Will Riker had told her about it. She stepped over to the bed, picked up the blankets that he'd kicked off onto the floor, and carefully spread them back over him. He stirred.

"Eline?" he murmured.

"Shh, go back to sleep," Crusher whispered.

He rolled over on his shoulder, pulled the covers closer around him. Crusher stood there for several minutes until his even, deep breathing resumed. As she started to leave the room, her eyes fell upon the medicine bottle on the bedside table. She picked it up and carried it into the next room. She opened it.

Earlier that morning, she'd given him eight pills. They were all still there.

~vVv~

"I think he would rather be there, with them."

"Beverly, I don't-"

"No," Crusher interrupted the counselor. "While I was there he... he called out for his wife. For Eline. I'd given him these." She handed the bottle of pills to Troi.

"To suppress his dreams?"

"Um-um. He hasn't taken any of them. I don't think he's eaten much. I think..." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, then stared back at Troi. "I think he's just slept most of the day. And dreamed."

Troi sighed. "I was expecting this."

"You were?"

She nodded. "He's torn right now between two lives, both very real for him. And his memories of Ressick are so close, closer than what he did last week, or last month. He was taken away from everything and everyone he knew, and that other reality became all he had. He misses it terribly."

"I know that, Deanna. But how long do we allow him to escape into that other life? Damn it, it is so unlike him. That's what's so aggravating."

"We can't expect him to be the same man he was before. In his mind, he's lived an entire life. Without you, without this ship. I think we're going to have to give him all the time he needs."

Crusher caught the underlying meaning in Troi's words. "Are you saying we should relieve him of duty for medical reasons?"

"Well, I was hoping we wouldn't have to put it quite so officially. Perhaps, if we strongly suggest he take a few more days off."

"We can try."

Troi smiled reassuringly at the doctor. "I'll talk to him in the morning."

~vVv~

_"Kamin, get up." Her voice was firm, but he ignored it, rolling over on his stomach and pulling the pillow over his head._

_"You can't sleep all day long." He could still hear her. "This is your life. The doctor said you may never remember what happened before you got sick, but you can't run away from here and now. You can't live in these dreams you're having. They're not real."_

_He whirled over, jerking the pillow away. "They are real," he hissed up at her. "Just... just let me sleep."_

_"No." She sat down beside him on the bed, took hold of his shoulders firmly. "You're my husband and this is our life together. You've got to accept that."_

_He shook his head helplessly. "This is not my life. Don't you see-"_

_"No, I don't. All I know is that I love you. And I want you here, with me." She rubbed her hand along his cheek. "Please, Kamin, please get up and have some breakfast." There were tears in her eyes. "Please."_

_He wanted to sleep, and dream of the Enterprise, of Beverly and Will, Deanna and Data, but he could not cause her this pain. And slowly, he got out of bed, and she wrapped her arm around him as they walked toward the dining room together._

~vVv~

He was surprised when the door slid open to reveal Deanna Troi. At this hour of the morning, he thought it would have been Beverly Crusher paying him a cabin call. He wasn't even in his uniform yet, and, somewhat uncomfortable, he pulled his dressing gown tighter around him. Troi didn't seem to notice his slight embarrassment.

"May I come in, Captain?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." He took a step back into the room, and Troi entered. "I was just getting dressed. I'm supposed to be on the bridge in twenty minutes," he added.

"That's what I wanted to talk about." Troi sat down on the sofa in front of the viewport, and she seemed to settle against the cushions as if she were planning on sitting there for a while.

Picard groaned inwardly. "Counselor, I'm sure whatever we need to talk about can wait. In fact, I'd much rather meet with you in my ready room a little later, if that's all right. I really do need to get to the bridge now. Can't have the captain being late, can we?"

"Sir," Troi's voice was calm, "I think you need to take some more days off."

He sat down in a chair across from her, suddenly realizing why she was here.

"You want me to take sick leave."

"That's not what I said."

His eyes flashed. "No, but that's what you meant."

She exhaled a deep breath. "It's just that Beverly and I think-"

"I should have known she was in on this," he interrupted. He ran a hand over his forehead. "Deanna, I appreciate your concern, but I am fine. I assure you."

Troi held her hand out in front of her, and Picard realized she was holding something in it. The bottle of pills he'd left untouched on his bedside table.

He snatched it away from her. "Where did you get this?"

"Beverly gave it to me."

He stared down at the bottle as he nervously passed it back and forth in his hands.

"Why didn't you take them?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I didn't think you would, but you need to."

He shook his head. "Not now, please." His voice was rough, heavy with emotion.

Troi stood up. He felt her hand on his shoulder. "I'll be back later, sir. And so will Beverly."

He nodded, and she left. Just like Eline, they were refusing to let him go.

~vVv~


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** As always, I've enjoyed posting this story. I really appreciate the positive reviews. Thanks for reading!

_The sun glinted, bright and strong, off the edge of the compass as he squinted through the eyepiece. It would prove to be another hot day._

_"You've been dreaming about that starship of yours again, haven't you?" Eline's voice came from behind him, soft and low._

_"I'm just charting the progress of the sun." He sighed, and adjusted the compass. "Might give a clue to the cause of the draught."_

_Her hand rubbed across his shoulders. "I think you're still trying to figure out where you are," she said as she stepped around beside him. "Where that ship of yours is, how to get back to that life." She sat down with him on the bench._

_He lowered the compass, and held very still for a moment, letting her words sink in. Then he took a deep breath. "The memory is five years old now. But it's still inside me," he murmured, staring vacantly ahead, thinking of that other life, that ship, those people._

_"Was your life there so much better than this?" He shifted uncomfortably. "So much more gratifying?" __He sighed heavily. "So much more fulfilling that you cling to it with such stubbornness."_

_"Eline-" He turned his face to hers._

_"Must have been extraordinary..." Her eyes were so intense. "But never, in all the stories you've told me, have you mentioned anyone who loved you as I do."_

_He looked away, sighed again. "It was real. It was as real as this." His eyes were stinging, and he blinked quickly to keep the tears from forming. "And you can't expect me to forget a lifetime spent there."_

_"Yes, I can."_

_He returned his gaze to her, surprised at her words._

_She shook her head. "I've been patient, Kamin. For five years I've shared you with that other life. I've listened. I've tried to understand. And I have waited. When do I get you back?"_

_He nodded. "I know. I know," he said, turning back to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his hand resting against her neck. "It- it has been hard on you."_

_She took his other hand in hers. "When will you let go?" she whispered as she ran her fingers over his. "When will you start living this life?" He frowned and drew his arm from around her, not wanting to hear what she was saying. "When will we start a family?"_

_They were questions he could not face._

_"Kamin, Eline, good morning." The voice belonged to Batai, and Kamin quickly stood, grateful for the interruption._

_"Good morning, Batai."_

_"Well, are you ready? The administrator's already arrived." He glanced toward the village courtyard._

_"Yes," Kamin answered, then looked down at Eline. "Will you come along?"_

_"No. Thank you," she said steadily. "You do very well on your own." And she got up and walked into the house._

_Batai could sense that there was something wrong between them. "She always was strong minded," he glanced at Kamin, "even as a child."_

_"It's not her fault," he replied tiredly. "These past few years have been very difficult for her."_

_Batai put an arm around his friend's shoulder. "And for you, I think."_

It had been difficult. All those mornings waking up there instead of on the _Enterprise_. Long days staring into the sky, wondering which sun lit that world.

And the nights, the stars so unfamiliar. And learning to live with a woman who seemed to know him better than he knew himself.

But now, what he wouldn't give to have those years back. To be with her, and hold her. He wanted her here, with him, wanted to tell her how frightened he was of coming back to this life, these people.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool surface of the viewport. They were gone. Forever. And he felt lost. He had not hurt like this since the day Batai came running into the village courtyard.

_He was out of breath, although the distance from their house was not far. _

_"Father?" he called even before he reached him._

_Kamin looked away from the administrator. "What is it?"_

_"It's Mother. Hurry."_

_He ran, following his son back through the winding passages to their home._

_Eline was in the living room, the doctor beside her, holding her hand._

_"Doctor?" Kamin asked glancing at the man quickly before turning his gaze toward his wife._

_The doctor stood. "Kamin, I'm sorry," he said quietly, touching him gently on the arm. He shook his head slightly._

_Slowly, Kamin knelt beside Eline, Batai sitting down on the edge of the cushions behind him._

_She looked up at her husband. "See... I go to any lengths to get your attention."_

_"You always did have a flare for the dramatic," he said, his breathing deep and labored._

_Eline's eyes drifted past him. "Doctor. Thank you." She raised her hand in a slight wave, letting him know it was all right for him to go. Then she reached out and Batai took hold of her hand. She smiled faintly at her son. "Leave us alone for a moment. I need to talk to my husband."_

_Silently, Batai left._

_"Did you show the... administrator... your evidence?" she asked haltingly, her voice growing weaker._

_"I didn't have to. They already knew."_

_"So... he won't throw you... off the council."_

_"No," he answered, shaking his head._

_"Good." A smile spread across her face, the same smile he'd first seen all those years ago when he'd opened his eyes and she'd been there. She touched him softly on the cheek, and their eyes held to each other, everything passing between them, the years, the love. "Remember... put your shoes away."_

_"I promise," he whispered. So much he wanted to tell her, but that was all he could manage._

_She lowered her hand, her eyes closing, a single tear running down her face. And she was gone. For a moment, he didn't move, just stared at her. And then, slowly, he lowered his head to her chest and cried._

He hadn't realized that he'd sat down next to the viewport, but that's where Beverly Crusher found him, his head still leaning against it, his shoulders shaking violently with each sob. She knelt beside him, drew his body into her arms. "Shh, Jean-Luc. I'm here."

He continued to cry, too tired and frightened to even be embarrassed by the situation. And he held to her as if she were Eline.

~vVv~

Crusher handed him a cup of tea, and he accepted it. "Thank you," he whispered, not yet trusting his voice.

She sat down on the sofa beside him, her hand resting on his back. "You're welcome."

He took a long sip, letting the heat of the liquid warm him. Then he looked up into Crusher's eyes. "I'm... I'm not sure what to say."

"You don't have to say anything unless you want to." She rubbed her hand up over his shoulder. "I understand what you're feeling."

He took in a shuddering breath, let it out slowly. "I miss them."

"I know."

"I can't..." He squeezed his eyes closed, then opened them. "I can't let them go. I don't want to let them go. One minute I'm afraid that I'll forget them, and the next, I'm afraid that I'll never forget them."

"You don't have to forget them, Jean-Luc. That would be like me forgetting Jack."

She felt his body tense beside her, and he set his cup down on the table as the tension dissipated into trembling. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and held him tightly.

"I want..." he began.

"What?"

"I want to remember them. But they're with me always, and I... I can't live both lives at once."

"No. You can't. You have to come back to this life, Jean-Luc. You have to tell them goodbye."

He shook his head. "I don't think I can."

~vVv~

She stayed with him the rest of the day, talking, making sure he ate a proper lunch, took a nap. And after he awakened and dressed, she suggested they take a walk.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he followed a step behind her.

"You'll see."

"Beverly, if you're taking me to Sickbay-"

"I'm not. Just be patient."

And then, somehow, he knew where they were going, and he was silent the rest of the way.

~vVv~

They stood in front of the portal to Holodeck Three. "I talked to Geordi," Crusher explained quietly. "From your descriptions, and from the probe's images, he was able to program what's beyond those doors."

"Ressick," Picard breathed.

"As close to it as we could possibly get."

He swallowed. "And they're in there?"

"Yes. Geordi says they are."

He took a step back, and she was immediately at his side, her hand on his arm.

"You don't have to go in there. I just thought... Well, after Jack died, I had all his personal logs to listen to. I thought you might like to have this." She reached out and keyed the program into the control panel. The portal slid open, and Ressick lay before him.

He stepped inside, hesitated, looked back over his shoulder at the doctor.

"Beverly..."

She smiled. "I'll be right out here, Jean-Luc. Waiting for you."

And the doors closed behind him.

~vVv~

It didn't look exactly like Ressick, but it was close enough. The tree was there, in the middle of the courtyard, and there were even people milling about.

Slowly, apprehensively, he followed the passages that led to his house. He wondered how old they would be, what images LaForge had used. And yet, it really wouldn't make any difference. Just as long as they were there.

He stopped at the edge of the patio. It was as he remembered it. The stairs to the roof, his telescope, the bench beside the door.

And as he was staring at it, the door opened, and Eline was there, young, vibrant.

"It's about time," she scolded gently as she walked over and took hold of his arm. "We've all been waiting for you." She pulled him toward the door. "My soup isn't good if it gets cold."

They stepped inside. It was a little different there, but not much. They were sitting around the table. All of them. Meribor, Danic, Kamie. And both Batais, his son and his friend. It was like a dream, all mixed up, but good all the same.

"Well, sit down." Eline pushed him toward an empty chair, and he sat. She settled in the chair next to him.

"It's about time the guest of honor arrived," the elder Batai laughed from the opposite end of the table.

"Guest of honor?" Picard questioned.

"Go get it, Kamie," Meribor whispered to her son, sending him off toward the kitchen.

A moment later the child returned, holding a cake in his hand. Eline took it from him and set it on the table. There were candles on it.

Picard smiled. "I didn't know it was my birthday."

"It's not, dear," Eline informed him as she lit the candles.

"But if it's not my birthday..."

"It's a party, Father," Batai said, "just enjoy it."

"There." Eline finished lighting the candles. "Now, before you blow them out, is there anything you'd like to say?"

And suddenly, he understood. "Yes, yes there is." He looked down at the end of the table. "Batai, from the first day I met you, you have been my friend. You taught me how to weave iron, how to cultivate a garden, how to keep hope alive in the face of draught. You gave me a fine name, and a good memory to pass on to my son. Danic, I couldn't have asked for a better son-in-law. You are loving and kind to my daughter, and I thank you. Meribor... we talked one time of the things I'd filled your head with, star charts and soil samples and the like. But I never told you how much you filled my heart, with your smiles, your eagerness to learn, your love." He looked over at his son. "And Batai, it's not what profession you choose that's important. It's who you are. And I'm proud of you. Always remember that." He smiled at the child sitting in his uncle's lap. "And you, Kamie, you're the one who has to dream for us, all right?" His grandson nodded.

Picard felt Eline's hand on his shoulder. "You can blow the candles out now."

He turned toward her. "No, I can't. Not yet." He touched her hair, her cheek. "When I... when I opened my eyes and saw you, I never knew how much you would mean to me. But you... you are this life. I love you, Eline." He kissed her tenderly.

And then Kamie leaned forward, and blew the candles out, and the party began around them. And after they'd eaten and talked and laughed for what seemed like hours, they began to drift away. Danic and Meribor and Kamie went home. Batai and his namesake went for a walk. And he and Eline were left alone.

He stared over at her. "I could stay."

She shook her head. "You can't."

"I could come and visit."

She smiled. "Maybe someday." She got up from the table and extended her hand toward him. He took it.

Together they walked to the door, and he reached up and pressed the panel that opened it. He looked at her. "I have to say goodbye now."

"I know." She touched her hand to his cheek. "Remember, my love, we live in you. So you must continue to live."

He nodded, blinked back the tears in his eyes. "I will carry you with me always." And he would. Like the box that held his flute, his soul would hold them.

"Computer." He gazed at her a moment longer, and then closed his eyes. "End program."

~vVv~

Just as she'd promised, Crusher was waiting for him when he emerged from the holodeck. She didn't say anything until he smiled, and then she wrapped her arms around him and whispered in his ear.

"Welcome home, Jean-Luc."

~The End~


End file.
